Ranma, Planewalker
by BrokenMimir
Summary: Ranma in the world of Planescape. Philosphers with Clubs, and the Prime Material's greatest Chaos magnet. An ancient evil awakens. Will Sigil survive? Will Ranma?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**

Planescape and Dungeons and Dragons are not owned by me. Neither is Ranma. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

"_There are three rules to endings. First, Good always wins. Second, Evil always returns. Third, the first rule isn't always true."_

_-- Tarsheva Longreach, a Planewalker_

**Endings and Beginnings**

**Long, long ago...**

In the deepest reaches of the Abyss, under an eternally black sky filled with dull, ashen clouds, there lies a vast desert of powdered bone, inhabited only by the restless dead. Howls and shrieks of the pained damned are carried on its endlessly swirling wind, scratching at the unfortunate wanderer's nerves as surely as the ever shifting white dust.

At the heart of this fell desert lies a great fortress made of countless bones. Within its heart, on a throne of human ivory, once ruled one of the cruelest tyrants in all the planes of existence. Over an eternity of unchallenged rule, the master of Oblivion's End slowly grew fat and lazy, his once hard edge dulled with the finest things a demon lord of his stature could desire. In time, the realm came to reflect its lord. And then she struck.

She stood now in destroyed chamber, wearily surveying the work she and her greatest followers had perpetuated. She was cruelly beautiful, like a razor sharp blade made by an artisan smith. Her red eyes held no hint of compassion, simply malice and cruelty, and now, triumph. Her black skin and white hair were spattered with blood and ichor from the battle she had just waged, somehow not detracting from her inhuman beauty. For she was a goddess, a Power, even if a minor one. As had been her foe, whose fat, maggot white corpse was still bleeding its black ichors at her feet. Finally, her foe breathed his last, and his body began to fade away, leaving nothing behind but fetid pools of blood.

With a grin crueler than any shark, she spoke, and her Words held Power. "Know that now and forevermore, he who once claimed Thanatos is no more. The past master of this place is gone and shall not return. I, Kiaransalee, Mother of Vengeance and Mistress of Unlife, rule here now and shall into infinity. My will is law in Thanatos, for it is now my realm.

"Let no soul, mortal or otherwise, speak of the former ruler again. Let no written word, anywhere in all existance, past or present, record his misbegotten appellation. Let this be the last moment any creatures ever hear the name fall upon their ears. The last voice to speak the name shall be that of his executioner, and I say it now for the final time:

"ORCUS!"

**Many years later...**

The Astral, an endless, silvery void, that is both everywhere and nowhere all at once. It is the space between, a realm of absence, a lack of reality. Stretching from the far reaches of the Outer Planes, to touch all of the worlds of the Prime Material, filling the gap between every atom, to the unimaginable infinities between every star. However, the true nature of the Astral is that it is the domain of pure thought. Ideas are born and ideas die, and the greatest ideas find their home in the Astral forever, even when forgotten.

And what are gods but ideas given sublime form?

Within this void float many vast, rocky islands of substance. Those who dwell in the Astral use the promontories to build their homes, ignoring always the nature of what they dwell upon. For who wants to remember that one's home is built upon the great crystallized chest of an ancient god, long dead and mostly forgotten?

Within this cruel archipelago floats an island upon which no one dwells. All who have ever set foot upon it have felt great unease, for the figure in question does not easily sleep that dream of death. Intimate with endings and that which lie beyond, this figure ever stirs in its sleep, dreaming dreams more active than that of other dead gods. Finally, whether by fate, its own dark will, or some confluence of events occurring on far off planes, the figure, while in the midst of a restless dream, awoke. For the first time in years uncounted the power awakened, and, into that great silver void of nothing, spoke a single word. "Vengeance." Then the dead god disappeared.

Into the hole of its absence stepped a great figure, appearing as though pulling back the curtain of reality to show where he had been. The figure was immense, wearing a simple wrap about its hips, and bearing only a plain staff. The jackal headed figure looked out into the space where one of its tenants had once been.

And Anubis, Guardian of the Dead Gods, stared for a long moment at the place left empty by the god who was his charge no longer. "Most ominous," he muttered gruffly, before fading away.

**Many years later...**

In all of the planes of existence, few beings are stranger than the modrons. The epitome of absolute Law, the modrons have a strictly hierarchal society, composed of an exact number of modrons per level, from the lowliest monodrone, strange spherical amalgams of flesh and metal, seemingly driven by clockwork limbs, to the mighty Primus, the One and the Prime, supreme master of the modrons. Each caste is filled with promoted members of lower ranks, each hole in the hierarchy being instantly filled from below without a single pause.

The modrons dwell upon the plane of Mechanus, an endless expanse of interlocking, impossible gears upon which dwell the plane's inhabitants. On a single large gear at the heart of the plane lies Regulus, home of the modrons. At its precise center is the Great Modron Cathedral, and in its heart dwells Primus himself. From here Primus directs his people, through a long and precise chain of command, to carry out his orderly bidding, maintaining the gears of Mechanus, and collecting all knowledge of the planes.

It was because of this habit that a small army of shadowed figures entered the home of Primus. Glancing up in surprise, the One and the Prime observed the beings as they quickly stepped forward. After of moment of shock, as he had not foreseen such an event disrupting his schedule, Primus attempted to call his followers to defend him, but found himself, for the first time, cut off from his people.

Even alone, the great silvery figure gazed upon the shadowed beasts and knew no fear, for, despite having overcome the defenses of Regulus, and having some as yet unknown power to disrupt his communications, he was unconcerned. He was the One and the Prime, a god, and as such beyond all powers that lesser beings could command.

The figures quickly spread out throughout the room, carrying out deeds beyond the ability of Primus to guess, for in his orderly manner guessing was not his strong point. Finally, the remaining creatures parted, revealing one last being.

It stepped forward, allowing Primus to see it fully. "You know me, do you not, _modron?_" the creature spat.

"Yes," Primus spoke, his voice carrying the faintest hint of shock. "But obviously, an elaborate deception is at work here. You are dead."

"Yes, I am. But I've no time for your short sighted observations. Do you know where my talisman lies?"

After a moment of consideration, Primus answered, "No." A moment later he reeled in pain under the cruel touch the shadow's mind, before the contact withdrew.

"Yes, of course you're telling the truth.... Simpleton. But there's a way you can find out where it lies – you and your little automatons." The figure approached Primus. "Of course, I can't let word of my existence be revealed yet, and I don't actually need you alive to accomplish what must be done here."

With a cold smile the shadow spoke the Last Word, and Primus, the One and the Prime, died. He was to neither be the first, nor the last....

**Time passes...**

"Come on, boy," the fat man, wearing a bandanna and a dirty gi, called. "It looks like its going to start raining in a minute."

"Stupid old man," a pigtailed teenager wearing red and black Chinese clothes muttered. "Wouldn't even have to worry about a little rain if it weren't for you."

"What was that boy? Oh, why must I be stuck with such a dishonorable son who does nothing but whine like a little girl?"

The teenager gritted his teeth. Finally, after a moment he reached the end of his rope, and with a shout, he leaped forward towards his father, connecting with a powerful jump kick. "Stop calling me that!"

The older man, Saotome Genma, flew forwards, flipping in mid air to land his feet on the hillside he had previously been flying towards head first. His plan fell through, however, as the hillside gave way under his feet, sending him into a hidden chamber in the hill.

Saotome Ranma stood in shock for a moment at his father's sudden disappearance, before running to the newly revealed cave mouth, where he found Genma examining an obviously artificial stone hallway. Torch sconces decorated the walls, one of which Genma quickly grabbed and lit.

"This is more like it," he said gruffly. "A dry place to stay, and maybe a bit of treasure."

Ranma rolled his eyes. Quests for treasure never ended well in his experience. Still, he followed his father, feeling the familiar stirrings of curiosity beginning.

The passageway soon opened into a large chamber, which appeared to have once been a well-made living room. Dusty tables and chairs sat covered in dust, with several thick books sitting about. Most were written in Chinese, though several were in Japanese. "Hey, pops, these books look old, and some are in Japanese."

"Foolish boy, this is no time to read. Just look for treasure."

Ranma set down his backpack and grabbed a torch of his own and began to look around. After a few minutes he entered a large chamber, which was covered in jars and beakers of every description. Some of the clear ones revealed oddly colored liquids, while others had strange _things_ preserved in them, from animal parts to unidentifiable masses. Ranma moved on quickly, arriving at a large work table, upon which was a thick book, with the words "Lab Notes" written in clear Japanese in a precise hand.

Ranma flipped through it, and at once found himself intrigued and amused. The author apparently was obsessed with the idea of traveling beyond reality into other worlds. He had perused every scrap of magical lore that he could find, trying to learn of a way to travel beyond. Ranma stopped smiling when the author mentioned Jusenkyo. After his recent experiences there, and with the Dragon's Whisker, Ranma suddenly became far less amused by the idea of magic. The journal ended with the authors apparent success at finding out how to open a way to another world.

"Boy, what did I tell you about reading? Did you find anything useful?"

"No."

"What about through that door?"

Ranma looked up and noticed a large, reinforced door on the far side of the lab. "Fine, I'll check it out. Stupid old man."

The door was made of stout wood and bound with iron, but it opened easily. From the torchlight Ranma could see a large, dusty chamber, with a single clear spot at the center of the floor. It was a circular device covered in intricate markings and from the way it reflected the torchlight, made of solid gold.

Normally, Ranma wasn't a greedy young man. He had seen often enough the consequences of his father's greed, and had long ago decided to never be like him. However, confronted with such obvious wealth he started to step forward, before suddenly his danger sense flared like never before. He froze, dropping the torch, bringing himself into a fighting stance. Immediately he knew something wa_s wrong_ in the room before him.

Genma stepped up behind him. "What is it... GOLD!!" Not even pausing to think he started to move forward, shoving his son ahead of him into the room.

"No, wait..." Ranma began... too late.

As soon as Ranma was pushed across the threshold he felt his body seize up, paralyzed completely. A warm breeze began to stir, revealing that the golden markings covered the entire floor, completely filling the room. Glowing golden markings.

Genma, finally realizing the danger, managed to leap away in time to watch his meal ticket son be engulfed in a bright golden glow, which swiftly filled the chamber. The blown dust blurred his vision, until, with a great flash and a blast of air, Ranma was gone.

"Ranma!" His voice echoed. "Why oh why have I been cursed with such a lazy and dishonerable son? Killed in a trap by his own greed. Oh the shame! Hmm, maybe I can pry up the gold without entering the room?" Quickly he set upon his task, his first strike breaking the circle, ending its magic forever.

"Look at all of this gold! Still, I should do something about the boy. Otherwise Nodoka will kill me. Hmm... perhaps Soun has some ideas."

**Elsewhere**

With a groan, Ranma came back to his senses. "Stupid old man. I've had it with him. When I see him I'm going to give him a piece of my mind it'll take him weeks to recover from."

Standing up, Ranma noticed he was in a large stone chamber, seemingly carved from rough black rock. Etched on its floor was an exact duplicate of the symbol that had been engraved in gold upon the floor in the chamber he had previously been in. Sighting a door, he walked outside.

The first thing that he noticed as he neared the door was the smell, a thick miasma reeking like a combination of a foundry and a charnel house. Next was the sweltering heat, like standing before an open kiln. Finally, stepping outside, he received the shock of his life.

The sky was deep red like dried blood. As far as the eye could see was an endless expanse of jagged black rock, rising and falling in serrated, yet strangely organic shapes that only passingly resembled hills. Great fireballs fell from the heavens, striking the ground in the distance with great bursts of light and flame, destroying further the already barren landscape.

Ranma gulped. "This isn't good."

**Author's Notes**

This story was created out of my love of the Planescape setting, and the epic adventure Great Modron March/Dead Gods. The plot of this story will follow these adventures, along with side adventures from the Well of Worlds Planescape book. Anyone familiar with these modules should recognize the setup from both Dead Gods and Great Modron March, as well as Ranma taking his first step into the planes via "To Baator and Back" from Well of Worlds.

Knowledge of Planescape shouldn't be necessary to understand this story, although I'm going to do my best to make it as lovingly accurate to the setting as possible. For those who are unaware of it, Planescape deals with adventures occurring mostly in the Outer Planes, which includes locations such as Mount Celestia (i.e. Heaven) and Baator (i.e. Hell). These impossible places provide a rich backdrop for unusual story telling, with things like Belief being one of the mightiest forces in the planes. In Planescape, the Pen is truly mightier than the Sword. Although only a fool doesn't carry at a few weapons with them wherever they go...

Kiaransalee's speech is taken verbatim from Dead Gods, as is the introductory quote, and the spoken conversation between Primus and his attacker.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer**

Planescape and Dungeons and Dragons are not owned by me. Neither is Ranma. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

"_Tell you what, berk. I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."_

_-- Zatosk, Red Abishai to a planewalker new to Baator_

**A Hot Night in Baator**

For a long moment Ranma stood still, simply trying to absorb the impossible, barren landscape before him. Mere moments ago he had been exploring a set of secret chambers that he and his father had found in China while seeking to return to Japan. Suddenly, he was here. If the book he had skimmed before his arrival was correct, he was in another world. And a very unpleasant one at that.

Normally, Ranma would react instead of think, as he had been trained his entire life. But staring at the bright flash of another fireball as it fell to the earth and burst with terrible fury, he realized that, for once in his life, he was in a situation where his martial arts, the thing he had focused on to the exclusion of all else, might avail him little. Even if he could fight off whatever inhabited this place, he had no food, no water, nowhere to sleep. Eventually, even he would die. For the first time, Ranma faced his own mortality.

Before he could contemplate further, a noise beside him caused him to spin around. Staring at him wide eyed was a strange creature that caused Ranma's own eyes to widen slightly. It was only three feet tall, with modest wings a spiky tail. However, its body was covered with spikes that made Ranma realize the precision of his combat skills would be put to the test. He eyed the creatures wicked barbed fork, its haft longer than the creature was tall, warily. It seemed to be made out of a strange green metal like nothing Ranma had ever seen before.

The small creature's body language, however, screamed fear as it slowly inched backwards until it hit a wall. When it did, it appeared to consider for a moment, before throwing itself onto the ground. "Please great master!" it shrieked. "Please don't kill Halitsu!"

"Quiet!" Ranma barked, glancing around warily. He decided the creature in front of him might be pathetic, but that didn't mean this hellish landscape didn't have any threats. The creature, Halitsu, began to quietly whimper and beg for mercy.

"Please master, Halitsu can help. What does master want?"

"Umm. Where am I?" When the creature gazed up at him with incredulous black eyes he chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head.

"This is Avernus, First Layer of Baator, great master."

"Baator?"

"Baator is Baator. Is where Halitsu is from. Is where all Baatezu is from." His small, pointed face curled up in a parody of concentration. "Halitsu think hear some mortal call Baator Hell. Halitsu not sure."

Ranma gulped again. _Not good,_ he thought. _Definitely, not good._

"This place near great fortress of the great Bel. Is master here to use nasty magics against the great Bel?" Halitsu seemed to cringe at the very thought.

"Bel?"

"Yes, Bel mighty Pit Fiend. Bel rule all of Avernus. Bel lead great Baatezu army against Tanar'ri. Great battles. Bel mighty. Please don't hurt Halitsu. Halitsu worthless. Less than nothing, but Halitsu life all Halitsu have. Please don't kill. If must use mighty magics, please use against others. Like Tanar'ri. Everyone hate Tanar'ri. Why not kill them, leave Halitsu alone?"

"Why do you think I'm going to use magic on you?"

Halitsu once again looked up at Ranma incredulously, before once more planting his face onto the black rock of the ground. "Master no carry weapons. Master come to Avernus unarmed must mean master have mighty magics, like Mad Witch, but even Mad Witch carry mace. Most Baatezu no be hurt without mighty magics, or mighty magic weapons, so master must have powerful magics, or master no come to Avernus, else master die. Well, master die eventually. After Halitsu's masters have much fun. Master have mighty magics, yes?" The little creature looked up at him speculatively, a sinister look growing in its beady black eyes.

Ranma, who had begun sweating, called up all of his confidence and imagined the creature in front of him was his father after he caught back up to him for getting him into this mess. His eyes narrowed menacingly at the creature, whose eyes widened once more in fear, before it eeped and buried its face into the ground.

"How do I leave this place?"

"Leave, master? Halitsu not know. Halitsu just do what masters tell. Go here, worm. Go there, worm. Carry this, worm. Guard that, worm. All Halitsu know is what Halitsu told." He paused for a minute. "Maybe Crazy Witch know?"

"Crazy Witch?" Ranma asked dubiously.

"Yes, yes. Crazy Witch. She live near here. Have hut in cave, near source of river in mountains, over that way. She appear, Baatezu go kill. But she kill them instead. Have strange magic. Have bad mace. Baatezu no come back. Finally Bel go, they talk. Now she live in cave, Baatezu leave alone. Maybe she know way to leave? Go talk to Witch, leave poor Halitsu alone. Halitsu no hurt anyone in several days. Halitsu been good. Please no kill Halitsu. Halitsu worthless. Halitsu not worth waste mighty master's magics to kill."

"If I don't hurt you what will you do?"

"Halitsu go back to guard portal. Halitsu job guard portal, but no one ever come through before master come. Halitsu just pretend no one come through, and Halitsu no get in trouble, and master no need kill. Just forget all about Halitsu, need never see Halitsu again. Halitsu just go back to boring job, guarding empty portal."

Ranma looked at the pathetic creature for a moment, before, with a snort, he started off in the direction Halitsu had pointed. "Don't worry. You aren't worth my time. Thanks for the info."

Halitsu kept his pointy nose planted into the rough stone until Ranma was well out of sight, before standing up, clenching his fork tightly. "Filthy stranger think he get best of Halitsu? Think he can scare Halitsu, and no problem. Halitsu go tell Bel, maybe get promoted. Yes, Halitsu serve well, get promoted, go show filthy stranger why he no humiliate Baatezu." Nodding firmly, the spiny creature grinned, spread its wings and took off. "Yes. Halitsu get revenge on pigtailed stranger. Just he wait. If there any left of him after he tell Bel." With a high pitched snicker the creature flew away, until, in its inattention, it was struck by one of the great fireballs. After a moment, slightly singed, it pulled itself out of its crater. Looking around to see if anyone had noticed its accident, it then cleared its throat, scratched the back of its head sheepishly, and flew off once more. Keeping a close watch skyward, it began to cackle once again.

**Meanwhile**

For hours Ranma moved cautiously along the razor sharp slopes of the low hills in the direction the tiny creature had pointed. Ahead of him he could see the large mountains of twisted black stone. Time crawled interminably as he was constantly on edge, his danger senses screaming a non stop warning at him. Occasionally he had to duck down and hide. Sometimes it was to protect himself from the great fireballs that seemed to fall like wrathful hail from the unchanging, bloody skies. Other times, it was to hide from leathery winged fliers. It was difficult to tell from the ground, lacking as the sky was anything to grant useful perspective, even clouds, but some of the creatures seemed large and very fearsome. Ranma decided that, greatest martial artist of his generation or not, there were better ways to spend his time than trying to fight his way though hell. Especially if, as Halitsu claimed, he couldn't harm them without magic.

Below the jagged hills he traversed spread a great plain of red earth, upon which nothing grew. Moving across it were endless rows of figures. Many marched in even, determined lines, carrying out nameless business that ranma was quite certain he did not want to know the details of. Many more seemed to be conducting endless battle drills, preparing for some great war. To his critical eye the fiends seemed to possess a significant level of skill, even if they were weapon users. The weapons were cruelly barbed and hooked, mostly pole arms of various sorts, and all were constructed of the strange green metal Halitsu's fork was made of. Fortunately, they were all too busy to notice his cautious scurry over the broken hills, so he rarely had to hide to avoid notice.

Eventually, he finished crossing the foothills and arrived at the mountains themselves. They were very tall, seeming to try to tear at the red sky with wicked black claws. Not too far away Ranma could see a slowly rising cloud of white smoke. The smoke was a steady column, appearing quite different from the black bursts that arose from the bursting fireballs, instead appearing to be from a very smoky fireplace or campfire. With a nod Ranma set off in that direction.

Eventually he saw up ahead a depression with what appeared to be water moving in it. Eyes lighting up, he remembered Halitsu's mention of a river. Thirsty from the tense, endless walk through the searing hills, Ranma sped up to an eager jog. And then he saw it.

The river was _not _of water.

Flowing sluggishly, the dull red blood oozed along the base of the depression. Where the blood splashed against the black rock the foam seemed to briefly form twisted, tormented faces which seemed to scream as they noisily splashed against the razor sharp stone. The air stank like a thousand slaughterhouses. After gazing across the wide river in horror, he looked upstream, where, in the distance, he could faintly hear a terrible chorus of wailing, like damned souls in agony. With a shudder Ranma realized thats probably what they were. He averted his gaze and tried to block out the sound. Downstream he could see a shallow place where he could cross the river.

Walking slowly, nearly dragging his feet, he finally arrived at the shallows. He stared at them for a long moment, when he saw the face of a face of a beautiful woman in a wave before it struck the shore. She looked as though she was in unimaginable torment. They locked eyes for a moment, hers pleading with him to help her, somehow. The moment ended when she splashed against a hunk of obsidian on the shore. Ranma gulped.

Finally, after he gathered himself, he stepped into blood. At the ford it was only ankle deep, but his cloth slippers were instantly soaked through, bathing his feet in hot blood. His feet squelched horribly against the rough rock, and he prayed that nothing beneath the surface was sharp enough to pierce his skin. A fireball struck the river nearby, close enough to ripple his clothing with the hot wind of its detonation. A great cloud of red steam rose into the air, and the wind brought with it the sharp stench of boiling blood. Where rocks poked out of the current in shapes sufficient to slow the flow even further large, scabrous congealed masses formed sickening islands. Finally, sweating and green, he reached the other side, and, hopping over a brownish mass of clotted material near the far shore, he landed on a flat rock and stood still, shuddering. He had never felt so revolted in his life.

Once he had himself fully under control Ranma continued along the path towards the column of smoke, which proved to emanate from a small cave mouth in the side of a cliff. Around the cave entrance, spaced five feet apart, were wooden posts, having the appearance of a fence missing its rails. Seeing no purpose to them, Ranma strode briskly forward, only to be confronted by a figure leaving the cave.

She appeared to be an older woman, with long, tangled white hair, oft patched red robes, and slightly pointed ears. She coughed hackingly for a moment, and then, as though sensing him suddenly, glanced up, her bloodshot eyes opening in fear. She screeched, and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out some tiny object. She shouted in an indecipherable language, its strange, twisting words somehow passing through Ranma's mind without pausing long enough to even be recognizable as anything more than something beyond his imagining. Waving her arms wildly, she hurled what she held at Ranma. He tensed for a moment, expecting an attack, and then blinked confused when he saw that it was nothing but a tiny bit of spider web.

_Great,_ he thought. _I see why she's called the Mad Witch._

To say that Ranma wasn't at the top of his game just then would be quite the understatement. He had been walking across a searing, fiend filled wasteland for hours without so much as a drop of water to drink, and that was after a long day hiking through the back country of china. In fact, his day had started very early, as he and his father had been awakened prematurely by a crazed chinese amazon, who, in Ranma's opinion, as the worst loser he had ever imagined. Because of the attack, and his father's general stinginess, Ranma had not had more than a single meal of rice that day, and that had been many hours before he had arrived here. All told, Ranma was exhausted, starving, somewhat dehydrated, and more than slightly terrified. His surprise at being confronted by the woman's actions kept him from noticing what his danger sense tried to tell him until it was far too late to act. Specifically, too late to leap to safety, as suddenly, from nowhere, strands of incredibly thick spider webbing appeared, stretching from pole to pole, and, more importantly, completely immobilizing him. He was trapped as thoroughly as any fly in history.

By the time Ranma came fully to terms with his new, helpless, situation, he noticed the old woman reemerging from the cave mouth, having darted inside the moment he was caught. She held in her left hand a three foot long mace, its head having eight flanges made of polished steel, the cap shining with gold. The weapon appeared to be of exceptionally fine manufacture, with tiny golden runes etched all along the flanges. In her right hand she held a leather waterskin.

"Thought ye could sneak up on an old woman," she cackled in a high, scratchy voice. "Well, ye found out I'm not so defenseless as ye thought, eh, little devil?"

"Wait, wait, wait, I'm not a monster!"

"Ha, think I'd believe that. Get a taste of this, devil!"

With that she flung the waterskin at him, which, true to its name, turned out to be full of water. When it made contact with Ranma, _he_ became a _her_. Ranma struggled for a second, but discovered quickly that, despite her reduction in stature, she was still completely trapped by the magical webbing.

"Hah! I knew ye were a devil of some kind. Showing yere true form now, eh? Didn't like that holy water did ye?" With that, she raised the mace in both hands over her head.

On top of all of the other problems, setbacks, and out and out disasters of the day, weakened and exhausted as she was, to be trapped, helpless, at the hands of the mad woman who she had thought was her only chance of escape, was simply too much. In a way, despite the fact that her turning into a girl was going to cause her death, she was, in a twisted way, almost grateful for it. Otherwise, she would have been even more mortified than she was as the tears began to fall. For a moment she tried to stop them, but, when the old woman raised the mace, she lost it. Tears pouring down her face, she closed her eyes and intensified her struggles, the futile motions becoming more frantic, as despite her lack of hope, she refused to give in to the death she expected to arrive in moments.

It didn't come. After a few moments she managed to get herself back under control, and glanced up to see the old woman looking at her, the mace held to strike, but hesitating. Looking into her eyes she saw a kernel of pity. It made her burn with shame.

"I've never seen a devil cry before. Are ye one or not? If ye are, I'll smite ye twice for trying to trick an old woman."

"Please, I'm human. I fell through some kind of magic circle and landed here. I'm just trying to find a way home."

"Then why did ye change into a girl?"

"It's a curse. Whenever I'm splashed with cold water I turn into a girl. Hot water turns me back into a boy."

"Never heared tell of no curse like that before. Hmm, it's strange enough I almost believe ye. What god did ye manage to offend to get a curse like that?"

"I didn't offend any god. My pops is the one that robbed those temples..." realizing what she had said, she trailed off sheepishly.

"Hah! Rare's the Power that wouldn't carry a grudge like that onto ye. Give an old woman a minute." With that she dug into her robes, finally pulling out a large, finely cut sapphire. Gazing through it she studied Ranma for a long moment. "Hmm, it looks as though yere true form is that boy I saw a minute ago. Perhaps ye're telling the truth after all. And that holy water triggered the change, but I didn't see no burns. Hmm. Alright. I believe ye."

Ranma felt relief flood through her. The old woman concentrated for a moment, and the webs faded away. "Come on inside, afore ye're seen. Wouldn't do for no fiends to come upon ye just now. Ye look like yere near yere wits end. Not that I can blame ye. I was much the same my first day hereabouts."

Inside the cave proved to be a large space, with a small hut at its center. The hut appeared to be made of wood with old thatch for a roof. Smoke poured copiously from a crude stone chimney. As they walked to her hut the woman said, "Back home they called me Hexla, the Mad Witch. Ye can call me Hexla though."

"Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

The inside of the hut was plain, but cozy. A low table with a pair of rough wooden chairs sat near the cheerful fire, its heat not truly necessary even in the cave. A single bed sat against the opposite wall, its thin sheets neatly tucked in. The wall opposite the doorway was covered in bookshelves, holding a handful of thick tomes, and a large collection of strange materials in bottles and jars. It reminded Ranma of a country version of the lab that had transported her here.

"Sit down, sit down, ye look dreadful thirsty. Let this old woman get ye a drink, and perhaps a bit of a bite?"

Ranma disappeared, reappearing at the table so quickly it seemed as though she had teleported. Hexla blinked once, before cackling and gathering a large plate of food from cabinets set above the mantle.

The food was simple fair, but, after her day, the plain water, black bread, and plump sausages were the sweetest meal she had had in years. A cackling Hexla refilled his plate and glass several times, grinning all the while. "My, my, ye have a healthy appetite, eh?"

Ranma chuckled, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. Suddenly she stopped, concerned. "I'm not taking all of your food, am I?"

"Oh, no. Don't ye worry about that. I have plenty, and to spare."

"How? Where do you get food out here?"

"Magic, of course! I can conjure me up as much food as I need."

Relieved, Ranma continued eating until she was, for one of the first times in her life, completely satisfied. Leaning back, she sighed cheerfully.

"Here, ye said hot water would turn ye back? Have this." Taking the offered tea kettle, Ranma swiftly returned to his natural form. "Thanks, lady."

"Don't worry a thing about it," Hexla leered. "I like ye much better that way."

"Umm..." Ranma fumbled, more than a little disturbed. "So... I came here hoping to ask you something."

"Well, ask away deary. Don't leave an old woman in suspense."

"I'm trying to find my way home. Do you know a way?"

"Well, thats not too simple of a question, is it? I don't even know where yere home is, though I s'pose it doesn't truly matter. Ye'd be happy to be anywhere but here, I'd think?" Ranma nodded vigorously, to which Hexla responded with a cackle. "I'd say so yes. I'd rather be anywhere else meself. Unfortunately, I don't have a clue."

Ranma deflated. "Oh."

"Now, now. Don't get defeated yet! Just because _I _don't know a way, doesn't mean this old woman doesn't know someone who might!"

"Really?"

"Of course, I know many things in me old age. Wisdom is the province of yere elders, boy, and remember it! Nearby is a place with a great pillar made of heads, called the Pillar of Skulls. Each head is a sage, and bein' in the pillar is punishment for petitioners who lied to customers for a living. Now they are trapped like that, unable to move even to defend themselves. However, if ye offer them something they want, then they will tell ye what they know, which is quite a lot. I'm sure at least one of 'em knows a safe way from this place. Just be prepared to pay the music – they will want something in return!"

"Like what?"

"How should I know that? I never leave me yard – magic or not, if I run into some fiends out in the middle of nowhere that'll be the end of this old woman!"

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you here?"

Hexla sighed. "That is a sad story, that I can tell ye. I'm from the Outlands, the place in the center of everything. I had heared tell of what was out there in the planes, and decided I wanted to see it for meself. I spend years studying magic, and working on the spell I would need to travel the planes. When I was finally ready, I cast it, and at first I thought nothing happened, it just filled my hut up with smoke. I ran outside, and right into a stone wall! Sure enough, my spell _did_ work – just not like I intended! Instead of taking me somewhere wonderful, it trapped me and me hut right here in Hell itself! And worse, it used up all of me sweetgrass and bat skulls during the casting. Without more, I can't even try it again to see if it takes me somewhere safer. Ever since, I've tried to research a new way out, but with little luck. It seems like this old woman will be stuck here until her dying day, but if I tried to leave, I'd say that day would be even sooner!"

"I questioned one of the demons i found..."

"Devils," Hexla interrupted.

"Huh?"

"Devils, or as they call themselves, Baatezu. Never, ever call 'em demons. Demons are what are properly named the Tanar'ri. They've been at war with each other since the dawn of time. Call 'em the name of their ancient enemy, and it won't be pretty. If ye mean some'at from a lower plane, but don't know what it is, call it a fiend. That name won't get ye into any trouble."

"So there are demons and devils?"

"And more things besides! Yugoloths, and Gehreleth, and Barghests, and Night Hags, and many more besides! And of them there are dozens of types, not just the few kinds ye may have seen around! There are more fiends than ye can shake a stick at, and no mistake!"

Ranma gulped. "Okay, then. I questioned a devil I found, and it said that only magic or magic weapons could hurt fiends."

"Aye, that's mostly true. Sure, the weakest will die about as easy as any mortal, but only the very weakest! Rare's the fiend that can be felled without magic." She gave him a thorough once over. "If'n ye don't know any magic, I suggest ye find a good magic weapon. Even if ye manage to find a way to give this place the laugh, devils have long memories, and they hold grudges. Chances are, someone will figure out ye was here, and managed to escape. And when they get a chance, ye'll need some'at to defend yereself with. Keepin' one eye over their shoulder never hurt a berk."

"Weapons are for the weak. They're a crutch."

Hexla chuckled. "Try walkin' up to some real cutter and tellin' him that. He'll laugh and hand ye yere entrails. Maybe whatever Prime world ye came from ye can ignore weapons, but out here, there are but two kinds of berks. The prepared, and the dead. And weapons mean bein' prepared. Some things _can't_ be hurt without 'em, and ye better believe those things will be happy to hurt ye back while all ye are doing is hurtin' yere fists!"

Ranma considered it for a moment. Normally he would scoff, but he really didn't know this place, and so far she seemed to know what she was doing. She was still alive anyway. "Hey, you know a lot about this magic stuff. Can you cure my curse?"

"Sorry, lad. I can't do a thing for ye. Yere best bet would be to get out of this place and find a powerful priest. 'Course, it'll cost ye. But one of 'em should be able to fix ye right up. Keep ye lookin' so nice all the time," she leered. Ranma gulped again, quickly standing up.

"Well, thank you very much. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"Don't worry yere handsome head over it, deary. This old woman was glad to help. To find that Pillar, just follow the river through the hills. Once past 'em, cross the plain until ye reach some more hills, where the river bends. Head to your right towards some hills, and ye should soon reach the pillar. Just remember, it won't break its word, but it'll try to cheat ye. Be smart and don't let it. If ye want to survive in the planes, ye need to keep yere wits about ye, and always think. Chargin' in blindly will just lead to a messy end."

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Hmm. Not really, about the only other useful thing I know is the local Spell Key, but yere no wizard to take advantage of it."

"Spell key?"

"Aye, nothin' is consistent across the planes, not even magic. Without the proper key, spells won't work right. I had a mess of trouble when I first arrived here, and that's a fact! Took me a while till I figured out I needed to be holdin' a chunk of obsidian stirred up by one of them fireballs if I want all of my spells to act right!"

"Well, thank you again for your hospitality. I'll never forget it."

Hexla shuffled her feet. "Now, now. It was nothin'. Just be careful. And remember, use yere head. And don't trust anyone here! Not even me!"

Hexla watched as Ranma left her cave, a wistful look on her face. Finally, she sighed, and headed inside her hut. Walking to her shelf, she pulled a mirror down and gazed into it at her tired, time ravaged face. She had never been a beauty, and even for a half-elf she wasn't young when she arrived here in Baator, but it seemed like each year since had hung on her like a decade. Finally she spoke a single word, "Ar'kle-mens."

The mirror fogged over, and after a moment her reflection was replaced with that of red, reptilian face. "Yes, Hexla? What is it."

"I've just had a visitor. Some poor Clueless boy came wandering in, looking for a way out. Only thing he seemed to know about magic was his curse."

"Curse?" the reptilian speaker hissed.

"Aye. Turns from a strappin' young black haired lad into a cute as a button red head girl with a splash of cold water. Hot water turned him back."

"Strange. I wonder who he offended."

"Thats what I thought. Whoever it was must have had a twisted sense of humor. I've never heard of such a curse."

"What did you tell him?"

"Well, if'n I knew a way out, I certainly wouldn't stay here, now would I! I sent him to the Pillar of Skulls. Mebbe it'll know something."

"Hmm. Thanks Hexla."

"Don't worry about it. Would ye like to come round for tea later?" she batted her eyes at him.

He grinned at her, or tried. It showed far to many razor sharp teeth for most people to appreciate, though Hexla was well used to the expression. "I look forward to it, though not tonight, something came up. How about tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. I won't keep ye, then. I still have to report this intruder to Bel." She frowned. "I hope nothing bad happens to him. The lad seemed nice enough. But, I can't risk my agreement. If I don't tell him and he found out he would be... unhappy with me."

The creature grimaced. "That would be most unfortunate. See you tomorrow, Hexla."

**Elsewhere**

The trip to the pillar took several hours, although Ranma would never know it. Baator was the domain of orderly, Lawful Evil. If you make a deal with a devil, you would be wise to count the fingers of the hand that you shook with, but you will at least be sure that the deal is honored. Sure, it'll be full of loopholes that will be exploited and used against you before the blood on the contract is even dry, but the devils _will_ do exactly what they agree to. This was reflected in the character of Baator itself, with Avernus, the first of the nine layers of Hell, being an unchanging wasteland. Harsh, cruel, and inhospitable, nothing ever changes there. That included the sky. No stars, no sun, no moon, not even the slightest darkening or lightening of the dull red glow. Just a perpetual bloody sky, unbroken save for the endless rain of fire crashing down onto the waste of a landscape.

Despite its name the pillar was not really composed of skulls. It was more than twenty feet high, a densely packed pile of heads in various stages of decomposition, but most still intact. The pile disappeared into the earth below, the bottommost visible heads still trying to speak despite mouthfuls of moist red dirt.

As Ranma approached he could hear them arguing endlessly, the details of whatever they discussed lost in the cacophony of so many shouting voices in such close proximity. Ranma stood at the base, trying to ignore the stink of rotting flesh, and stared at it for long moments. Finally, as they continued to ignore him, he spoke. "Um, hello?"

The silence was sudden. All the voices instantly cut off, and every head turned its eyes to face him. He felt hundreds of eyes crawling on him hungrily and shuddered. Then, all the heads began talking at once, seeking Ranma's attention, until finally one head, its brutish features far too large to be human, shouted "'Nuff!" and all was silent.

The enormous head was more rotten than most, but it still rolled its glistening orbs, each easily the size of a softball, to focus clearly on Ranma, revealing a keen intelligence. "What business have you with Pillar of Skulls?"

"Um... I want to leave this place."

"I knows many ways to leave. What you offer in exchange?"

"What do you want?"

Its huge orbs gleamed hungrily. "Service!"

A thin but handsome face with pointed ears suddenly shouted "Knock out the ogre head and I'll tell you what you need to know!"

Another, this one that of a chubby middle aged man, called "Bring me a fiend and I'll tell you!"

A third, this one a fresh looking bearded head, unusually small in size, called down in a wheezing voice "Tell me the Spell Key of this layer and I'll let you know!"

All of the heads began shouting what they wanted at once, and Ranma couldn't hear anything else. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what Hexla had said, something about.... "Got it!"

The heads all quieted down, and stared at him again.

"I know the Spell Key! It's a chunk of obsidian from one of those fireballs!"

"Ah, yes, I see, I see. Now, could you bring me one?"

Ranma started to turn to go, when he stopped and turned back around. "You said you'd tell me just for the information!"

The small head looked chagrined, while all the others laughed mockingly. "Fine, fine. A portal from here lies to the west, and the Portal Key is a fiend's spine."

"No, you fool!" the fat head shouted. "That's five days from here. The closest portal is is to the south, and its Key is a brick from the Great Avernus Road."

The small head pouted, while the rest all shouted their agreement with the fat head. "What's a Portal Key?"

"Portal Key need be held by person who lead way through portal," the large head ground out. "No key, portal no open."

"Just head south," the fat head said nodding in a direction. "Pass by Bel's fortress. The Great Avernus Road run just south of its gates, but I'd advise against vandalism anywhere a fiend might see you. Take the stone and go further south, and you'll find the portal atop a lone hill."

"Thanks... um... yeah, thanks." Ranma backed away slowly, trying to figure out what to say to the giant pillar of heads being punished in Hell which had just helped him. Coming up blank, he simply turned away and walked off in the direction that the fat head had indicated. Before he had even walked ten feet the heads were once more arguing loudly among themselves.

Ranma traveled south quickly, but soon discovered a problem. The River of Blood, which he had crossed earlier, was in his way, and he had to cross it to go south. To make matters worse, this wasn't the simple ankledeep flow he had encountered near its source. Instead, it flowed far more swiftly, and appeared to be quite deep. Ranma explored up and down the river bank for almost an hour before he found the best place to cross, a section that was only waste deep. With his only other choice being to backtrack all the way to the mountains, or to wade across, he paused, steeling his courage. "It's just a little blood. I can do this. I'll get out of here, and find a way home, and beat the old man for getting me into this, and everything will be okay. Yeah. Just a little blood." With one last, deep breath (which nearly caused him to gag from the smell of the river), he waded in.

The previous trek through ankle deep blood had previously been the third worst moment in his life. After all, terrible as it was, at least he was still male and not attacked by c-c-c-furry little fiends. This was much, much worse, and that only after a few steps. Holding his hands high to keep them out of the blood, which was deep enough to soak them if he left them to his sides, he moved as swiftly as he safely could, not wanting to lose his balance on the smooth worn rocks of the slick bottom. He nearly jumped from his skin when a large, scabrous clot bumped into his side, and was grateful when his shiver dislodged it.

He was nearly to the far shore when it happened. Wrapping around his leg, some _thing_ grabbed him and pulled him down into the warm blood. Closing his eyes hastily, he fumbled about, seeking to dislodge the thing that had grabbed him. Grabbing it, he found it to be a long, hard tube of flesh. Coated in thick, slimy mucous, it was impossible to get more than a loose grip on it. Pushing at it, he nearly had his leg free when suddenly it bit him on the side. The wound burned like fire, and unconsciously, he opened his mouth to scream. Blood poured in, and he immediately choked, the creature coiling about him, tightening its grip.

Calling up the last of his reserves he increased his struggles. Forming a fist with his left hand, he began to pound away at the creature's apparent head. Each blow sent waves of fire through his side as it jarred the teeth sunk deeply into his flesh. Finally, as he began to black out from lack of air, the creature loosened it's grip. Diving for the surface, he gasped for air, and began choking on the blood he had swallowed. Finally, choking and coughing up blood, he pulled himself onto the shore. He lay there, semi-conscious, and stared at the thing that had attacked him. It was enormous, like some giant anaconda, but maggot white. Its mouth was the cruel, sharp toothed circle of an enormous leech. It thrashed on the surface angrily for a moment, before finally sliding back beneath the blood in search of other prey.

Ranma lay still for a long time, recovering. The bite on his left side was longer than a hand span, a ragged circle of torn and bitten flesh. His entire body was soaked in blood, not even an inch spared the red stain. His mouth was thick with the taste of hot blood. It took him a long time to recover his nerve.

"I won't die here. I refuse. I won't let this place kill me. You hear that! Hell or not, I won't die!" He rested for several more minutes. "I won't. I still have to beat the old man for this. And I still have to be the greatest martial artist ever. If I die here I won't do either. I won't lose. Saotome Ranma doesn't lose!"

He moved more slowly after that, his stiff side slowing him down. At that point he would have given nearly anything to clean his mouth out, and, given the sweltering heat, something to drink as well. By the time he reached Bel's fortress, he was completely exhausted.

The fortress was the largest structure Ranma had ever seen. It was a mountain of cruel stone, a sprawling edifice to evil and damnation. A thirty foot high fence of iron surrounded it, its posts surmounted by human skulls, their eyes glowing balefully, jaws working to let forth an endless wailing. The keep itself was constructed of iron, marble, granite and basalt, the arrangement speaking of an utterly alien logic and mindset. The architecture was as bizarre as the choice of materials to make it, but, despite the seeming inconsistency, Ranma couldn't help but feel that there was some infernal logic to it all that he couldn't quite comprehend. Spikes, barbs, and hooks jutted out everywhere, with obviously thick walls and high guard towers adding to its defensive feel. Ranma had little experience with feeling aura's, but even he nearly choked on the hatred, pain, suffering, and dark ecstasies embodied in its every brick.

The area around the fortress was incredibly dangerous as well, with endless patrols and other swiftly moving groups of fiends constantly surrounding the structure. They were of seemingly endless varieties, with the only similarity between most being the terrible evil of their vile forms. After observing this for a long moment, Ranma pressed on.

Further south, he reached the promised road at last. It was a wide stone path of black bricks which stood out plainly against the red soil of the plain. Past the road Ranma could see a lone hill standing by itself, its top covered with jagged black rock. However, if Ranma had thought he could easily pull out a stone from the road and simply head up into the hills, he was gravely mistaken.

The road was covered in fiends. Not simply a few, but a veritable army of the foul creatures. They milled about, all of them heavily armed, obviously waiting for something. A few groups practiced battle formations, while others sparred or worked on their combat skills alone. Others talked, or rested on the dirt near the road. Overhead, leathery winged fliers circled lazily. Worse still, the flat, open plane offered no hiding places near the road, making it impossible to approach close enough to grab a brick, much less cross to head to the portal.

With a sigh, Ranma settled into the best cover he could find, a crater with several large black rocks around its rim, and prepared to wait the devils out. Ranma had never been much for patience however, and, combined with his exhaustion and wound, he soon found himself slipping into fitful dreams, waking often as one group of devils or another took up loud battle songs in some terrible, croaking language.

After four restless hours a huge winged figure flew from the fortress to the north, and moved swiftly to the gathered host. The flyers landed, and all the rest instantly arranged themselves into neat formations. The enormous red figure eyed the host for a moment, before growling out a speech in the croaking language. With a loud cheer, the army followed him down the road, marching east to the accompaniment of singing and drumming.

When everything was clear, Ranma slowly stood and stretched. His side was still stiff, but it wasn't as sore as it had been. His muscles were tired, but they could move well at need. He was exhausted, but he knew that if the adrenalin started, so would he. With a final nod, he set out.

The walk to the road was tense but uninterrupted, until, when he was nearly there, he heard a sound behind him. There, in the sky, flying forth from the fortress, came a menagerie of the flying creatures. Out in the open as he was, he was sure that he had been spotted.

Speeding up, he dashed to the road, and knelt beside it. The bricks were smallish, and made of the rough black rock that most of the hills had been. Digging his fingers into the soft red soil, he quickly worked his hand under a brick, and with a great heave, pulled it free. From behind he heard an outraged shriek, and so without pause, shot off at his best speed toward the portal.

When he reached open ground, he risked a glance back, and immediately regretted it. The creatures, several score of them, were nearly upon him. They were taller than him, between six and eight feet in height, with great leathery wings and long, prehensile tails. They were scaly, with a nearly even number of red and black beasts, all of them with razor sharp claws prepared to rend his flesh. With a gulp, he poured on his best speed.

It became a race to the portal, with Ranma giving it his all. Had he been anyone else, he would have been in tremendous danger, tired, injured, and thirsty as he was, he would have easily tripped over the razor sharp rocks as he approached the hill, either injuring himself so much that he would have been easy picking for the fliers, or else inflicting mortal injury outright. However, in his training with his father Ranma had developed a significant tolerance for such things, and with his balance even the most difficult terrain was no obstacle. Therefore, while he was not leaving the fliers behind, they also were not gaining on him.

When he finally crested the hill, he saw the portal. It was a natural appearing archway of black stone, with nothing about it other than its aberrant shape calling attention to it. On either side of the arch burned smoky torches. Standing silhouetted against their light, directly in front of the arch was a man. He was tall, his handsome if angular face set with an expression of total confidence. When Ranma crested the hill, he raised his hands in greeting.

It was then, as Ranma stumbled to a stop, that he heard a cheerful, urbane voice in his head. _"What ho, traveler! I hope your journey so far has proven pleasant. I am Ar'kle-mens, guardian of this portal. What can I do for you."_

Understandably disturbed by this calm figure, Ranma paused, catching his breath, and glanced around. The fliers had stopped their approach and now simply circled the hill, all except one, who landed nearby, and crouched, watching intently.

"I'm Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

_"Charmed. I take it from your hasty approach you desire to pass through this portal that I guard."_

"Of course."

"_Splendid. However, you will have to pay the toll. It's nothing serious really, just a simple favor."_ The man held up a small white orb. _"All that you need to do is carry this through, and you can be on your way. Otherwise, you would have to fight me for the privilege."_ The man smirked._ "I don't recommend that option, however."_

"What does the orb do?"

_"Oh, don't worry about that. I promise you that it will not directly harm you."_

"What about indirectly."

"_Such things are, unfortunately, beyond my control. However, I can assure you that the orb itself will not harm you."_

Ranma hesitated uncertainly. He was in Hell. Probably dealing with a devil. There was _no way_ that this wasn't too good to be true.

Seeing him hesitate Ar'kle-mens started to look annoyed. After a moment he growled, his face briefly appearing similar to the red skinned monster crouching nearby, before returning to its human form. _"I could just as easily force this on you and throw you through the portal you know. Take the orb."_

"I don't think so. I think I'll fight you for it."

With a growl the figure stepped forward, eyes flashing red. Ranma took his stance. "I'm Soatome Ranma of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts."

"_You'll be dead."_

Ranma started with a quick, probing left, simply getting a feel for his opponent. Ar'kle-mens easily moved his head out the path of the simple attack and replied with a strong hook. Dodging out the way, Ranma lashed out with a hard side kick.

The kick connected with a loud crack, causing Ranma to grunt in pain. _Its like kicking rock!_ he thought. _Not good._

Smirking again, the creature lunged forward with another punch, followed immediately by several more quick, precise strikes. Ranma weaved through them all, lashing out with a three hit combo of his own punches, each one of them catching his foe square in the face, none of them provoking more than the slightest twitch. Ranma jumped back, his hands stinging, one of his knuckles bleeding from hitting. His opponent showing not even the slightest injury.

The battle continued in that vein for several minutes, Ranma lashing out with precise, probing attacks, tagging the man the majority of the time, but nothing seeming to so much as faze him. In return his opponent fought back with significant speed and skill, but not quite enough to land a finger on Ranma. Growing desperate, Ranma took to the air, leaping into a prodigious jump kick. Ar'kle-mens leapt with him, catching the kick on his forearm and lashing out with a rising kick of his own. Ranma, however was ready. Twisting impossibly in midair he wove around the blow, grabbing his ankle for leverage, before launching a punishing combo to his foe's ribs. Each strike had his full power behind it, the hits driving the air from the man's lungs, causing him to fold up, his face rising into the final hit of the long series, a punishing smash to the face, driving him into the ground with the full weight and power of their combined momentum.

Ranma flipped away, smirking, leaving his enemy lying in a crater in the ground. His victory was short lived, however, as with a growl his enemy rose. The human shape disolved away, leaving an enraged, and completely uninjuried devil holding the orb. It appeared to be of the same species as the red fliers that had been pursuing him, but was slightly larger than the other one on the hill. Eyes flashing red it darted forward, still clutching the orb in its left hand.

Ranma rolled out avoiding a furious hit that shattered a rock formation. With a growl the demon spun around clawing at the air, Ranma avoiding being eviscerated by a hair's breadth. Somersaulting forward, he rammed his heel into his foe's nose as hard as he could, far harder than he had ever hit an opponent before. In reply, the devil simply grabbed his foot with one hand. Before Ranma could react he was spun through the air and slammed face first onto the ground. While still dazed, the creature repeated its action in the other direction, slamming him on his back. This happened twice more, before finally the creature threw him into a rock formation.

Ranma coughed, his vision blurring. That had _hurt_. Looking up through the spots dancing before his eyes, he stared into his foes red orbs. Holding out the sphere the devil spoke once more in his thoughts. _"Useless. You _cannot_ harm me. All your blows do is hurt yourself. Take the orb. I promise once more that it will not directly harm you. This is the last time I will ask. There are others who will come here in time, and one of them would serve me well enough. I chose you because you were convenient, not because you are necessary. Take the orb or die."_

Ranma hesitated. The creature raised its hand, claws spread to end his life. Staring up at them, Ranma tried to will himself to move, but realized that he would never be fast enough. It was the end.

"_Goodbye, mortal."_

"Wait! I'll take it."

Ar'kle-mens smiled. _"Smart move. Here."_

The orb was smooth and seemingly made of dull white glass. It was warm to the touch, and smelled faintly of vinegar. _"If you betray me I will know. Simply take the orb through and your task will be finished. Double cross me, and I will hound you to the end of existence and bind your soul into the River of Blood for all eternity. Understood?"_

Remembering the faces in the river Ranma gulped and nodded vigorously. _"Good."_

Standing slowly, his battered body crying out in protest, Ranma gripped the orb in his left hand, and the brick in his right. Stepping forward to the arch, he took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped forward. As he entered the space the brick in his hand vanished, and before him, as though a curtain parted, he could see somewhere else. Stepping through he sighed, relieved, as the portal closed behind him, leaving him standing in the alley next to a cobbled street. As he started to relax, however, he glanced down, as the orb began to pulse.

It started first with a simple flashing of white light, slowly, but speeding up rapidly. A deep thrumming sound seemed to build from everywhere at once, and the orb grew uncomfortably warm. A static charge built in the air, and Ranma's hair stood on end. Most of all, however, he could feel it with his ki senses. It was rapidly building up power, soaring past anything he had sensed before, and as it was nearing climax, the light flickering into a steady glow, the sense of power leveling off, the sound turning into an unbearable hum.... it cracked and shattered into dust. The built power drained away into the air, accomplishing nothing.

"Huh. It broke." Ranma thought for a moment. "Hope he doesn't blame me." Finally, relieved, he looked around. And, for another time that day was struck completely speechless.

**Meanwhile**

Ar'kle-mens chuckled to himself, holding the second half of the orb set. It was the pinacle of his genius, a decade of careful work, all of it to produce the greatest device ever created by an Abishai Baatezu. Ar'kle-mens would be remembered forever as the greatest genius in the history of the Lower Planes! After all, it was he who had crafted the magical orbs that would destroy the wards protecting the city of Sigil from invasion. How Bel would laud him for finally opening the path of conquest. Why, Asmodius himself would promote him. He would soon be ruling an entire Layer of Hell. _Yes_, he thought. _I am a geniu_s.

The orb activated, building up. _Soon,_ he grinned. _Soon_. Finally, as it reached its climax.... it broke. "No," he whispered with his rasping voice. "Impossible. Inconceivable! My genius is unmatched. The path into Sigil should have opened! How, how is this possible!"

Turning around to head back to his lab he noticed his fellow Abishai gathered around him, glaring. "It's not my fault. It was perfect! It had to be something else... yes! That's it! He did it. He must have broken the orb." His fellows were unimpressed. One of them expressed this by hurling a rock at his head.

As he flew off, fleeing the wrath and jeering of his peers he shouted at the top of his lungs, the words echoing across the first level of Hell, "Saotome Ranma, this is ALL _YOUR_ FAULT!"

Somewhere, on a tiny world of the prime material plane, a black piglet sneezed.

**Author's Notes**

There you have it, the first real chapter of my Planescape epic. Clocking in at over 9000 words, I'm very proud of it.

I know many of you may disagree with some of the things that happened. I rewrote Ranma being captured by Hexla several times until finally it felt right. Some of you may still disagree however. Its a free country, afterall.

As for Ranma's power level... he was dreadfully over matched here. An Abishai Baatezu requires a +1 or better weapon to hit – in other words, magic. I would have allowed Ki attacks to work as well (the Scarlet Brotherhood expansion from second edition, as well as some other editions of D&D define a Ki strike as being equivalent to a +1 weapon), but starting Ranma didn't know any.

Ranma in general will be as powerful as any other inexperienced, low level individual, just with a swift learning curve and several unusual (but not unheard of) talents. In many ways, his danger sense will be his most useful ability out on the planes. As far as him using weapons... I'm still undecided. I could also have him receive ki combat training (probably from a Cipher monk), or find a magic item that makes his barehanded attacks magical, or he could give in and carry a weapon for when needed. We'll see.

This chapter was pretty dark in places, as one would expect for a trip to Hell. This was based on the Planescape adventure "To Baator and Back" from Well of Worlds. I lifted a small amount of dialog from it as well. The quote at the top is from the Planes of Law boxed set.

I was torn on how to start this story, between having him at a young age reach the outer planes and be raised there, or him arriving in this fashion. If I had taken the other option, he would have passed through a portal to the Beastlands when he was a child while in the Neko-ken, and would have been found and raised by a Catlord, eventually becoming a Ranger. In the end I took this path, as Ranma would be more like Ranma that way, and I really like using this module to start things off. I ran this once with a group of gamers in college. Their expressions during the River of Blood scene... priceless:)

Next chapter sees our hero arriving in Sigil, City of Doors. What fate awaits him there?


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer**

Planescape and Dungeons and Dragons are not owned by me. Neither is Ranma. They are owned by rich, talented people. I'm a nobody. Please don't sue me.

"_Feathers ain't the ONLY thing those pigeons drop in that water."_

_- a berk refusing Marian's silver ladle  
_

**Welcome to the Cage**

If one were to picture the Outer Planes as a great wheel, each plane laid out beside the other to form a ring, then the center of this wheel is the Plane of Concordant Opposition, more widely called the Outlands. At the center of this infinite plane, bounded on all sides though it is by the Outer Planes, rises an infinitely tall mountain, sticking up like an axle from the wheel that is the Outer Planes. Atop this infinitely tall mountain, called the Spire, floats a ring, hovering as though to be placed upon the mountain as a nut upon a bolt. This ring, floating unsuspended above the Spire, has built within its inner surface a great city named Sigil, City of Doors.

The City of Doors is so old that its origins are lost to history. In those endless years uncounted masses of people have passed through its many portals, leading as they do all over the multiverse. Heroes, villains, the exalted and the damned, demons, angels, and everything else imaginable has lived in the city at one time or another. Many find adventure, leading some to fame, most to an ignominious death. However, in the countless years that Sigil has stood, few arrived in the city in such as a state as Saotome Ranma.

Recall, if you will, the current condition of the young martial artist. Hours earlier he had been completely soaked in a river of blood, and since had spent his time in the baking heat of Avernus. This means that, when he stepped into the city, he was completely coated in dried, baked on blood. When the orb, a weapon he had carried through designed to destroy the defenses of Sigil, disintegrated, he had been covered in a fine white dust, clinging immediately to his crusty exterior. Those who viewed him had a hard time even determining if he was human, and those that recognized his coating wondered what sort of atrocities he had most likely been committing to gain his covering.

Looking around for a moment Ranma stared incredulously at his surroundings. The city was constructed mostly of stone, squat, ugly buildings pressed up against or even upon one another, like barnacles overlapping to encrust the bottom of a boat. Gargoyles leered from the walls and roofs, and everywhere rusty iron added dull red and black accents in the form of bars and grates over every window, and sharp serrated blades strategically placed to make illicit entrance difficult. Most of the buildings were covered with vines of black, heart shaped leaves, often obviously cultivated to cover the walls of the buildings. Other than those common themes, however, the houses followed no set architectural pattern, instead seeming to be constructed according to the whims of whoever had built them, with no thought to consistency or style.

The air was thin and polluted, reeking of smoke and crude industry, garbage and raw sewage, and over it all the stench of the unclean masses which filled the street that Ranma stood at the edge of. Looking outward into the flow of people, he realized that those before him were a crowd unlike any he had imagined. Most were human, dressed in all manner of styles, with dark cloaks being the most common accoutrement, needed as it was to provide protection from the ash and embers that drifted down like burning snow from the dim, smoky sky. However, there were many other species traversing the streets, most humanoid in form, though some were strangely colored, or of unusual builds. Others had extra limbs, or wings, or even forms that seemed to merge people and animals, the most common being men and women with the lower bodies of goats. Other creatures were harder to define, though sprinkled through the crowd were the occasional fiend, making Ranma pause to wonder if his escape had actually succeeded. All of them, regardless of species, moved quickly, either on foot, or born on litters through the packed, winding streets.

Finally, with a sigh and a shrug, Ranma entered the press. Despite suspicious and disgusted looks, most simply ignored his presence and continued on their business. As he walked he kept his eyes open, the sights, sounds and smells nearly overwhelming. Occasionally the winding, seemingly unplanned streets would narrow, the buildings crowding the street, second floor overhangs sometimes forming virtual tunnels through which the traffic flowed. Other places the streets would widen out into open squares and plazas, which were usually filled with either desperate, squatting beggars, or street vendors loudly hawking wares of every imaginable make and description. Pausing to examine a transaction, most of which seemed to occur in oddly accented Japanese, Ranma saw a tall, stoop shouldered creature with bright orange skin, red eyes, and a bulbous, blue nose purchase what appeared to be a large, deformed rat on a stick, roasted fresh on an open fire, from a green skinned woman with shiny, metallic hair. The transaction was made with small copper coins, which were tested for weight on a small scale before the food was handed over. The orange skinned creature bit into its treat with obvious relish. Across the way a white haired, white skinned woman with a scimitar bought a curved dagger with several small gold coins. Everywhere strange people bought and sold odd items to one another without so much as a single pause.

After walking for well over an hour Ranma was pleased to find the streets widening and becoming cleaner and less packed. The buildings became larger and more imposing as the streets became broader, with the simple iron blades and gargoyles slowly being replaced by far more intricate, if equally grim, sculptures of stone and iron. The air, while still thin, became clearer, the stench of industry and its smoke soon left behind in the previous, obviously poorer, part of town. Eventually, as the air cooled, the falling embers disappeared completely, and Ranma looked up into the clearer sky, taking a deep breath of the moderately clean, if thin, air. As he did so he nearly choked on his own breath. Staring down at him through a clear patch of sky was more city, seemingly built downwards overhead. Slowly craning his neck, Ranma gasped as he realized that the city was built on the inside of a ring, and that he could see the other side miles away. He was relieved when a patch of cloud obscured his view once more.

Eventually Ranma found a large, clear fountain at the center of a broad plaza. The fountain was of elaborate design, showing several dolphins at play, the highest spitting a stream of fresh water from its mouth. The water in the fountain's pool was mostly clear, its only obstructions being a small amount of grayish green feathers. He only hesitated a moment, before deciding that he would rather be in girl form than spend anymore time crusted with blood, and so quickly made his way over to the fountain.

He dipped his hands in and quickly began to scrub away, his splashing causing an almost immediate gender shift, and was relieved to be making some progress in cleaning away the blood, when he suddenly noticed the condition of the fountain. The water, which had been mostly clear before, was quickly turning a foul, murky black color, the effects of the hellish blood on the fountain far out of proportion with the amount that was cleaned off into it. She stared for a moment, dumbfounded, before muttering, "that can't be good."

As if summoned by his words, a high, indignant voice shouted; "You there! Step away from the fountain." Turning around, Ranma blinked in surprise.

The person who shouted stood proudly, chest out, head held high. Well, as high as a three foot tall man _can_ hold their head. He was dressed in heavy armor made from sturdy metal plates, with a large pot helmet. The highly polished plate mail would most likely have been more imposing were it not somewhat too large for its wearer, giving the tiny person the appearance of a kid wearing his parents clothing. In one hand he held a small but stout billy club, and he beat it against his other palm in the age old posture of an irate policeman. His chest prominently displayed a symbol of a sword on top of a shield, though what it represented Ranma did not know.

"Who are you?" Ranma asked, bemused.

His chest somehow thrusting out even further, the small figure proudly declaimed, "I am Wip Wildfang of the Harmonium. You are under arrest for defiling a public fountain!"

Ranma blinked, looking down at the figure. "Whatever kid. You should go on home before your parents worry."

"WHAT! How dare you! I am an officer of the Harmonium! You're under arrest for defiling a public fountain _and_ resisting arrest!"

Ranma patted the man on the head condescendingly, accidentally causing the over sized helm to slip forward, blocking his vision. "Look, kid, the costume is cute and all, but you really shouldn't play games like this with strangers."

Wip pushed the helmet back into place with a growl. "You... you..."

Ranma smirked down at him infuriatingly.

"You addle-coved berk! I'll scrag you, you over sized, ogre fondling strumpet!"

"I have no idea what you just said, short stuff, but I can tell it wasn't nice. If that fountain was cleaner I'd wash your mouth out. Maybe your mommy is around somewhere to do it for you?" Ranma made a great show of looking around the square, which she noticed to her surprise was rapidly emptying of people.

Distracted as she was, she first noticed Wip swinging his billy club when it connected with her shin smartly.

"YOUCH!" she shrieked, hopping up and down on one foot, clutching the rapidly forming bruise.

"Take that you double sized cross trading bint! I'll cut you down to size!"

Wip swung his club at Ranma's other leg, but she hopped back out of reach.

"Get back here you leather headed goblin gargler! I'll saw you off at the knees! The streets'll run red with your diseased blood, you scabrous flea bitten orc layer!" With that he launched himself at Ranma again, shouting an endless line of strange obscenities. While the small man was shockingly quick for someone wearing so much armor, Ranma had both a significant reach advantage and a comfortable edge in speed, and as a major tenet of the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts is to taunt an enemy into losing their temper, she was very used to staying ahead of enraged foes. After a few minutes, and several well placed replies to the stream of invective, Ranma finally stood calmly, her hands crossed behind her head, her opponent gasping, hands on his knees.

"You'd think someone so small would have less trouble keeping up. Must be getting fat for your height. Wouldn't take much."

"I'll... catch you.. yet you... filthy little... kobald flosser..."

"You and what army?"

Ranma froze as she heard a voice loudly clearing its throat. She had been distracted by her fun game of baiting the foul mouthed man, and had lost track of her surroundings. Gathered around the square, easily blocking off all of the exits, were a dozen men in heavy armor. While Wip had looked ridiculous, the newcomers made the plate mail look imposing, helped along by heights that easily towered over Ranma's rather short frame by a margin as great as she towered over Wip. Most of them held billy clubs and were beating them against their hands menacingly, although most also carried swords, and two brandished strange weapons consisting of a half circle of steel with barbed hooks on its inside mounted on a long wooden pole. From the identical sword over shield symbols on each of their breastplates, Ranma decided that this was, indeed, Wip's army.

"Your under arrest. Come quietly or it'll just go worse for you, berk."

Ranma sized up the situation. There were a lot of them, and if they were at least as capable as the little man that she had just annoyed, then with their numbers it could be a difficult fight. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure that fighting was a good idea. After all, if these people were the authorities, then beating them up or running for it would likely just get her in even more trouble, which is definitely not what she needed. As she considered fleeing, she was struck by a sudden realization. _Running is what my father would do. Well, running and leaving me in this mess._ She sighed and raised her hands. _What's the worst that could happen?_ She tried to ignore the sudden sense of apprehension at her thoughts.

One of the armored men put heavy metal manacles on her wrists. She noticed that they were made of iron and obviously in good repair, with strange writing all over them. "This way," he grunted, tugging on her arm.

Her escorts for the most part returned to their own patrols, with two of the large men on either side of her making sure she didn't try to escape, and Wip Wildfang proudly marching in front of her, chin high. She rolled her eyes and walked easily through the streets. People gave them a wide berth, but mostly pretended that they didn't exist. After about an hour of swift walking, they finally arrived at a large, imposing building.

Despite the chaotic and seemingly unplanned architecture, and its use of gargoyles and metal blades as ornamentation, most of the city, particularly in the area she had been traveling through, had a certain degree of elegance. High, sweeping roofs were common, and occasional exotic twists gave the place a certain visual appeal. The building before her, however, lacked such. It was seven stories tall, its roof line, colored like dried blood, was interrupted by guard towers at regular intervals. The open space around it was constantly cut by bright beams from roving searchlights, pausing briefly to fully illuminate each patrol of armored men, each group of which had large, two headed dogs sniffing the ground before them. The aura of the place spoke of despair, and Ranma nearly tripped when a terrible, desolate cry echoed up from somewhere below the building.

At the large, metal entrance doors to the slate gray building, a group of guards in red plate mail stood. Most of them appeared human, although the closest was very ugly, with heavy brows and strangely grayish skin that made Ranma suspect otherwise. They carried a variety of weapons, and emblazoned on their breastplates was the symbol of a winged serpent creature rearing up to strike. Upon seeing the small man leading them most of them carefully blanked their expressions. The leader sighed long sufferingly and rubbed his nose. "What is it now Wip?"

"Defiling a public fountain and resisting arrest," the small man said proudly.

"Fine, whatever. You, girl. I don't know what you did or didn't do, and I don't care. Save it for the judge. We just hold you till your trial, and punish you afterwards if your convicted. Don't make any trouble for us, and things will go smoothly. Cause problems, and we'll save the Guvner's the trouble of trying you."

Ranma followed a pair of the new guards and was led inside of the large building, though she was quickly surprised to discover that, despite appearances, the inside was actually a large open dirt square with walkways above patrolled by more guards in red armor. She was led across the square and hustled into one of the towers. Inside it was cool and dark, the gray walls providing a bleak tableau. She was processed quickly, her name recorded by a bored looking scribe, and led up to the third floor. Inside were numerous cells, each containing miserable looking prisoners. Only a handful of the cells had windows, and with how dim the light was outside they provided little illumination. Finally, a door was unlocked, her cuffs removed, and she was roughly shoved into a cell. "Get in their, girl."

Rubbing her sore wrists she muttered by reflex, "I'm a guy, damn it."

"Really?" a voice said from further back in the cell. "You don't look much like one, though I guess that doesn't really mean a lot."

Ranma looked around, letting her eyes adjust to the windowless room. The cell was tiny, about five feet wide and ten feet long, undecorated save for four wooden planks on the walls with blankets on them, obviously intended for use as beds, and a chamber pot at the far end of the room. After taking in her grim surroundings she focused on who had spoken.

The woman was strange looking, and obviously not human. Her straight, shoulder length hair was a bright blue color, save for a wide stripe in its center that was inhumanly red. Her pale face was pretty and heart shaped, with full lips, an upturned nose, and large green eyes, but with tiny, white horns at her temples and slightly pointed ears. Her lithe body was covered by tight black leather breeches, a loose white shirt and black leather vest. She lay on her side, her face propped up on one hand, her booted feet crossed, and her long red tail twitching up and down beside her. Ranma blinked at her for moment, before muttering, "well, I'm a girl right _now_, but I am a guy."

She raised a blue eyebrow at his comment, before grinning mischievously. "That sounds like an interesting story."

Upon seeing Ranma shuffle uneasily, she chuckled. "Perhaps we should start somewhat less interesting. I'm Xaldra Miloni. Do you want to be friends?" she asked, holding out a hand.

"Ranma. Saotome Ranma." She smiled awkwardly, shaking hands with the strange woman. For the first time since the portal, Ranma felt hope. She might have been in a cell, but she had a friend. It made all the difference.

"You do anything interesting to find yourself in here?" Seeing her hesitation, Xaldra continued. "I learned that you shouldn't try and drink a bariaur under the table, or, if you do, don't climb up to the roof of the tavern and dare the Hardheads to come get you. The sods have no sense of humor."

"Hardheads?"

"Sure, the Harmonium." Seeing Ranma's blank look she elaborated. "What, Clueless? The Harmonium supposedly keep the peace here in the Cage, though mostly they scrag anyone who annoys them. If you don't even know that you must be really lost."

"I'm not even sure where I am. My stupid old man pushed me into this room with this big design on the floor, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in hell! Fiends everywhere, and rivers of blood, and raining fire..."

"Ouch. Guess that explains the fashion statement. Most people try to avoid the soaked in blood look, by the by. How'd you get out of that?"

"This woman named Hexla told me where to go to find a Portal, and finally I managed to get out of there. I got past its guardian, and suddenly I'm standing outside of some alley wondering if I've gotten out of hell at all. That was a couple of hours ago, and when I finally found a place I thought I could clean some of this blood off..."

"You get arrested by some pumped up Hardhead. Thats rough."

Ranma sat down with a sigh, putting her face in her hands, wincing slightly as her many injuries slowly began to catch up with her. "What happens now?"

"Well, we're in the Prison. Its run by Mercykillers. They're a cheerful bunch, got a real thing for justice. 'Course, not everyone agrees with their ideas of justice, so its good for all of us that the judges are all Guvners."

"Guvners?"

"Yeah, members of the Fraternity of Order. Boring bunch, half of 'em wouldn't take a glass of water if they were dying if it wasn't on schedule, but at least they aren't as... eager... to try and punish people as most Hardheads and Mercykillers are. Do you have much jink?"

"Jink?"

"You know. Money. Gold, silver, copper. You might be from some backwater Prime world, but surely you use money."

"Um... we have money. But its made of paper."

She snorted. "That's no good then. You aren't going to be able to pay the music with that."

"Huh?"

"Look, this place? Its named Sigil, City of Doors. Most people call it the Cage. Its at the heart of everything here on the Outer Planes. It has more Portals than anywhere else in existence, and if you know the right key, you can get anywhere. 'Course, the only place you want to get to at the moment is the state of freedom, but to do that you need the universal key. Money. No matter what, things cost jink in this city. If you don't know who to garnish and how much to give 'em, you'll risk offending them or worse. And for however much the Mercykillers love rattling their bone boxes about Justice most of 'em are perfectly happy to execute people who didn't bribe their Judge the right way."

"What do I do then?"

She looked at Ranma for a moment, considering, before grinning impishly. "Just leave it to me. I've got my own advocate coming for my case, but I know somebody that can argue for you. He owes me a favor, so he'll even do it for free. I think he'll twig to you right quick, too. Don't worry, he's never lost a case."

"Thank you. But... why? I mean, I don't even know you."

"Well, I should think by the time we hit the courts we should know each other fairly well. This isn't exactly a big cell, and we'll be lucky to get on the docket tomorrow. Besides, I may be a Cager, born and bred, but I know what it's like to feel like an outsider, with the whole system against you. Anyway, you seem pretty interesting. I'm still waiting to find out about how your only a girl _right now_? Pike off the wrong wizard?"

After that Ranma was able to relax somewhat, and soon found herself telling Xaldra about how she had gotten her curse, and was relieved to find her simply amused, and not judging in the least. After that they began to trade stories in earnest, the tension of waiting to learn what would happen to them making them both happy to talk to fill time. Before she knew it Ranma had told Xaldra more about herself that she had told anyone in years, with her father constantly keeping her training and never letting her have time to make friends.

In return Ranma learned quite a bit about her new companion, as well as about Sigil itself. The city was run by fifteen factions, groups of people who joined together because they shared certain philosophies. Most of these factions were charged with operating various parts of the city, which was nominally ruled by the Lady of Pain, who rarely took notice of day to day affairs. Xaldra herself was a member of the Free League, a group that, while it ran the Great Bazaar, claimed not to be a faction, as they didn't tell members what to believe in. Instead, they simply watched each others backs, as they had little legal standing in the city because of their refusal to operate as a typical faction.

They spent the waning hours of that day in the cell together talking, and the whole of the next day as well, before, on the morning of the third day, they were bustled out of their cells following an unappetizing breakfast of bread and porridge and into manacles. They were swiftly lead out into the muddy square, and soon were formed up with a dozen other prisoners.

"All right, bar it you lot." The speaker was a tall man with pale red skin, glowing yellow eyes, and bright red hair that seemed to shift and move on its own as it stood straight up. He had a nasty grin on his face. "Most of you lot will be returning here after your trials. I just thought it would do you some good to see what might be your fate, before you go." So saying he gestured towards a large wooden structure across the field. Standing in a row were several men and women with ropes tied around there necks. Most of them appeared to be pleading with the impassive red garbed people around them. After a moment one of the men in red pulled a lever, and the people fell, hung by their necks. Most died quickly, though one woman kicked for several minutes before finally dying. Ranma felt as though she was going to be sick.

"When we give this the laugh, I'm buying us both first class treatment from Iarmid to recover," Xaldra murmured shakily. For all of her confidence earlier her face was now stark white and her eyes were wild. Ranma nodded dumbly.

They were handed over to a small patrol of Harmonium soldiers in bright armor, who immediately began to hustle them down the street. The closest man, a blond haired human, took a long look at Ranma and gasped. "Forsooth, I have never seen such radiant beauty all but hid under such foul muck. What, pray tell, gentle lady, is thy name?"

Ranma just stared, completely dumbfounded.

"Of course, a lady of your obvious breeding must indeed be overwhelmed when meeting one such as I, so I must introduce myself first to get past such awkwardness. I am Sir Garvin, Paladin of the Harmonium, eternally at your service, my lady. Now that that is done, and I am no longer so strange, might you honor my humble self with your name?"

"Still strange," Xaldra snickered.

"Um... Ranma. Saotome Ranma."

"Indeed. Then I shall pray to my god for your deliverance today from whatever base accusations have forced you to be so unjustly bound."

"...right." Ranma did her best to ignore the man after that, which was easy as they soon entered a large plaza. At its center, fully one hundred feet across, was an enormous pool, with metal basins rising high into the air above it, slowly spilling water downwards. Each splash of the water generated a beautiful tinkling music, which somehow seemed to fill Ranma's heart with hope. Mixing in with the beautiful music of the fountain was a high, clear singing voice, creating perfect harmonies to make the most vibrant sounds Ranma had ever heard. The singer was a beautiful willowy woman, with milky white skin glistening in the spray of the fountain and large dark eyes. Her flaxen hair hung to the middle of her back, and mixed in it were long, grayish green feathers. She wore a simple green dress, and over it was a mantle of the same feathers. She glided about gracefully as she sang, and in her hand was a silver ladle. As they moved past the crowd that had gathered for her performance, she seemed to lock eyes with Ranma for a long moment. As she turned away, he thought he saw her serene face smile slightly.

Past the fountain was an imposing building, its style a mixture of Greek columns and pointed roofs, all decorated with the iron blades common to Sigil. A set of steps led up to the building, and on those steps stood a crowd of men and women dressed in all manner of clothing, though most favored robes in conservative colors. As the crowd of prisoners approached they began to loudly shout offers of their services as advocates, and the prisoners began to dicker with them under the watchful eye of the Harmonium guards.

A young woman with a plain, somewhat horsey face, brown eyes, and brown hair pulled back into a bun approached Xaldra. She was wearing black robes and had a pin on her chest showing a winged serpent in profile, curled up in a fetal position. "Ranma, this is a good friend of mine, Meredith Vilnas. She's an Indep, a member of the Free League, like me. She likes to take cases for Indeps who find themselves persecuted. Meredith, this is Saotome Ranma. Hes a Prime so green you can smell it."

"Nice to meet you, Ranma."

"Hello."

"Meredith, Ranma needs an advocate and doesn't have any money they'd take here. Could you get a message to Sly Nye for me? He owes me a favor, and Ranma needs an advocate."

Meredith sputtered. "Sly Nye! Why do you think he'd even take the case!"

"Don't worry. It'll tickle his fancy. Besides, he owes me."

After a few more minutes all of the prisoners that could get an advocate had one, and they were swiftly hustled inside the court. At the top of the steps, as they were handed over to the Harmonium on duty at the entrance, Sir Garvin approached Ranma once more. "Do not worry thyself overmuch, fair lady. Soon you shall be freed of this unjust imprisonment, and you can come away with me, to celebrate your escape from this place. Forsooth, one so fair as thee could never have committed any crime beyond what can be atoned for with my aid."

Ranma did her best to ignore Xaldra's quiet laughter.

Inside the courthouse they were separated into small groups, and Ranma was very glad to be with Xaldra and Meredith as they were led into their courtroom. It was a large hall, made of marble, with a tall podium on one end, and rows of wooden benches in front of it. Sitting at the podium was an old, hunched human man, wearing plain black robes, with tiny glasses perched on the prominent beak of his nose and a powdered white wig upon his head. Sitting behind a desk beside the podium was a pretty girl with hair a red so dark it seemed almost black in the candle lit room. In her hand was a quill, and before her sat numerous books and scrolls. On the other side of the podium stood a tall man with yellow skin and squinting eyes, and a powdered wig upon his head. "Be seated," he said in a high, reedy voice. "This court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Barker presiding. Be seated."

Everyone quickly sat down on benches, and once everything was still the tall man pulled out a scroll. "First on the docket, the city of Sigil versus Xaldra Miloni. Anton Vell prosecuting."

Xaldra, with one last tremulous smile to Ranma, rose and walked to the front of the room, her advocate beside her. A man, short and round, wearing black robes and a powdered wig, rose from another bench and approached. He grinned like a shark, his beady black eyes running over Xaldra in a way that made Ranma's blood boil for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

"Does anyone speak for the defendant."

"Meredith Vilnas, advocate for the defense, your honor."

The tension Ranma had been under slowly faded into boredom as the case began. Xaldra's drunken antics, while funny when she told them, soon became nothing more than a vehicle for citing laws and debating legal precedent. The judge rarely spoke, but when he did it was decisively, in a quiet voice that spoke of confidence and knowledge of the law. At various points in the case Meredith would approach the Judge, the prosecutor, and various clerks that came and went, ostensibly paying various "fees" and "duties", which Ranma quickly realized were simply a legal fiction for bribes. As Xaldra had said, Sigil ran on bribery.

Finally, after several mind numbing hours, the judge banged his gavel.

"I've heard enough. Xaldra Miloni," here she tensed, "while your behavior was reprehensible, your drunken conduct would not have, by itself, required your appearance before this body. Your behavior to the arresting Harmonium officers is another matter. However, as you did not harm anyone, and the owner of the tavern you climbed has no interest in pressing charges, I'm going to let you go with a warning and fine of fifty gold, standard weight. Case dismissed." As the judge banged his gavel once more, Xaldra relaxed and grinned at Ranma. It only took a few minutes for the case to be sorted out, and Xaldra was given a citation to take to the clerks to pay her fine, before her manacles were removed and her possessions returned, including a long curved sword and a pin similar to the one Meredith was wearing, which she immediately attached to her vest.

"See, told you, nothing to it. When you get off, we're going to go see Iarmid."

Before Ranma could ask what she meant, the tall man began to speak again. "Order in the court. Next on the docket, the city of Sigil versus Saotome Ranma. Anton Vell prosecuting."

Xaldra's encouraging smile did nothing for Ranma's nerves, as she slowly walked to the front of the room, fully aware of how filthy and unkempt she appeared. Ranma ignored the prosecutor's leer to look around the room, wondering where her advocate could be.

"Does anyone speak for the defendant?"

As Ranma stared at him, fear dancing in her eyes, her stomach falling past her knees, a loud bang echoed behind them. Turning quickly, Ranma noticed a strange man striding through the doors which he had unceremoniously thrust open, much to the obvious anger of the Harmonium standing guard outside them. He had strange, vibrantly colored hair sticking up in all directions, somehow standing on end. His pale face was decorated with tattoos of abstract lines and symbols. Long, pointed ears stuck out from his head, and a wide grin spread his lips, revealing long canines. He was dressed in a brightly colored patchwork long coat, its sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows, revealing unusually long, thin fingers. The most astonishing thing of all, however, were the five brightly colored geometrically shaped stones that orbited his head, like moons around a crazed planet.

"Sly Nye, the defense advocate for, your honor. My pardon lateness, want let to but no to me seemed in one."

Everyone stared at him as he walked to Ranma's side. When he arrived he flashed her a confident grin. Ranma wasn't sure if it was the strange stones, or the insane look in his eyes, or even the scrambled words, but for some reason she was not reassured.

The judge groaned loudly, rubbing his forehead. "I do not need this today. I've got enough of a headache as it is. Just gabberslug her."

Ranma stood confused as the dark red haired clerk quickly wrote something on a piece of parchment, which the judge then signed and handed to a guard. "Don't worry. I've never lost a case."

"What does he mean, gabberslug me?"

Nye grinned with childish glee. "They're sending you to Judge Gabberslug. Don't worry, he knows real justice when he sees it, not like these stiffs." With that they were led out of the room, Xaldra offering a reassuring smile as they did so, though her eyes were worried.

Ranma was quickly hustled through the streets by her escorts who ignored her and her lawyer. Nye responded to every question with confident, if deranged, reassurances, and then returned to his inane humming. Ranma soon returned her attention to the city.

The streets narrowed again as they entered the smoky, densely packed district that Xaldra had called the Lower Ward. The polluted, smoky air was even worse after having breathed the much better air in the Lady's Ward over the past several days, and Ranma found herself coughing occasionally after taking a particularly strong lung full. Eventually, as they left the industrial district that was the Lower Ward, the amount of smoke and pollution reduced, but if anything the smell worsened.

The Hive was the worst part of Sigil, and indeed one of the foulest dens of scum and depravity in all of the Multiverse. The ramshackle hovels that made up the district were made of crumbling stone and rotting wood, and were placed at random as open spots of ground were discovered. The twisting alleys that made up the district's streets were muddy and unpaved, and more often than not were flooded with thick, brownish black rainwater filled with festering garbage and rotting excrement. Stinking, muddy children ran in packs, appearing every bit as feral as the mangy two headed dogs they hunted for food. Drunken, miserable people lay broken down on the sides of streets, occasionally stirring to chase away rats or fellow vagrants who sought to prey upon them in their inebriation. Screams of pain and fear mixed with coarse, ugly laughter echoed from collapsing dens of iniquity. Everywhere starving faces peered fearfully at the Harmonium guards and their prisoner, as though considering whether they were worth eating. Ranma, sickened, began to stare ahead, her eyes unfocused, unwilling to look at the inhuman slum around her.

Finally they arrived at their destination. Sitting in an open square full of filthy, wretched beggars, was a tall, white marble building, its columns, stairs, and elaborate architecture an obvious reflection of the City Court that Ranma had just left. As she climbed the steps Ranma couldn't help but consider the differences between that building, standing proudly in the clean, broad streets of the Lady's Ward, and this one, squatting at the heart of Ragpicker's Square in the festering Hive.

At the top of the steps stood several still figures wearing black, hooded robes. The Harmonium guards handed them over and swiftly left, all but running from the building. Ranma could hardly blame them. The closer she came to the doors the more her danger senses screamed at her to leave. She hadn't felt this way since escaping Baator. "What is this place? Who are they?"

"This is the Court of Woe. Its run by the Dustmen as a favor to the Guvners. Don't worry, I have everything under control. Just follow my lead. I've never lost a case, you know." With those words they stepped through the entrance and into the Court of Woe.

The inside of the Court was enormous, a single, gargantuan room, far too large to have fit within the building that they had walked into. Everything was white, but not the shine of marble, instead a dull, yellowish white, like old bone. The walls were covered with terrible carvings of faces, some leering, other screaming terribly, angered faces, terrified faces, faces of all species and gender, united only in the pervasive horribleness of the display. The room itself was furnished with row after row, ninety nine in all, of splintery wooden benches, upon which sat a court. Some, like Ranma or Nye, seemed to be ordinary people brought for cases. Others seemed like a macabre parody of the City Court. While most wore black robes, many were in fact not living. Undead of every imaginable stripe, rotting creatures, spectral fiends, lifeless abominations beyond all imagining filled the cavernous room. Mummies sat half unwrapped, their bandages being used as scrolls to record notes about the hearings taking place. A withered creature dressed in white funeral garb created sketches on pale white parchment using ash as a medium. Skeletal figures in black armor served as bailiffs. Glowing blue will o' wisps in crystal globes hung from the ceiling to provide light. And, at the front of the room, lay the most terrible creature of all.

An enormous skeleton of a dragon sat, twitching occasionally, at the front of the room, burning with an unnatural green flame. Its jaws were open wide, and burned brighter than the rest, providing eerie back light to a gargantuan throne of bone. Sitting upon this throne was a great bloated figure, its fetid maggot white skin glistening in the spectral light. It was twenty feet tall and nearly as round, with a huge, piggish face dominated by a gaping, fang filled maw and glowing red eyes, which were filled with malice and a cruel cunning. From its back protruded tiny feathered wings, which flapped nervously, picking up when he was excited, and slowing when he was bored. To his right was an enormous basin filled with red slugs longer than Ranma's arm, and at intervals he would grab one of the writhing creatures and throw it living into his drooling maw. Never in her life, even when facing the Guardian of the Portal, had Ranma been so close to such a terrible, evil presence. The sheer power that the _thing_ radiated nearly overwhelmed Ranma's ki senses. To them the creature was like a corrupt volcano, boiling forth with foul power and ever threatening to erupt with a terrible dark might.

"What... what is it?"

"That's Judge Gabberslug. He's a nalfeshnee demon. Powerful one too. Don't worry though, he's not allowed to kill anyone that comes before him. Besides, I never lose a case."

They took seats near the middle of the room, and Ranma watched as the strange court case played out. Standing near the front in manacles was a tall, muscular bald man with a ratlike cast to his features. He sneered at the court around him, acting as though he were above it all; through his act Ranma could see a fear that mirrored Ranma's own, though she wouldn't admit to it either. Between the prisoner and the judge paced an old, wrinkled woman, her bone white skin and stringy white hair being her only features not covered by an elaborate black robe. The woman talked in a creaking monotone, her rasping voice endlessly arguing her case. It took Ranma several minutes to realize that the woman was arguing both sides of the case, prosecution and defense, seamlessly switching from defending the man to condemning him depending upon which direction she paced the court. Though she completely lacked in passion, she argued stringently both ways with equal attention to detail.

Finally, with a great belch, the fiend interrupted the woman. It spoke in a deep, sepulchral voice that echoed through the cold chamber. "I find the defendant... guilty."

"No!" the man shouted. With a snarl he shoved his guards away, and, grabbing a knife from the belt of a nearby robed figure, he hurled it at the judge, who knocked it away with a contemptuous flick of his hand, the huge, bloated arm moving too quickly for even Ranma's experienced eyes to track. The knife, moving at great speed across the room, flew point first towards a robed figure standing next to the bench Ranma sat upon. Without even pausing to think she dove, wrapping her arms around the person, a process made difficult by the manacles, and moved her out of the way, the knife slicing Ranma's shoulder slightly as she barely dodged herself.

Looking down at the person she had rescued, Ranma saw that it was a pretty young woman with light brown skin, almond shaped black eyes, and loose black hair to the small of her back. She was only slightly taller than five feet, with a generous figure that Ranma could feel pressing against her underneath her concealing black robes, bringing a heated flush to Ranma's cheeks. She smiled sheepishly at the woman for a moment as she simply stared into Ranma's eyes, making her feel self conscious. "Are you alright?"

The woman stared for another moment, her pretty face flushing before she looked down, obviously flustered. As she did she noticed Ranma's bleeding shoulder. "You are hurt," she said in a quiet voice.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a scratch."

"Here." The woman placed her hands on Ranma's shoulder and muttered to herself quietly for a moment. The words were strange, in a language Ranma could not understand, though they made her feel strangely uncomfortable. After a moment a warm green light surrounded the woman's hands, spreading first across her injured shoulder, then the rest of her body, glowing brightest where the knife had cut her and where the strange leach-like creature had bitten her several days before. A cool, soothing sensation filled her for a moment, then a strange feeling, like a soft damp cloth moved over her entire body, making a shudder. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the glow faded, and with it her pain. Setting the woman on her feet, Ranma examined her shoulder, and was surprised to find it completely healed, leaving only the faintest mark, as though the injury had healed months before. From the feel of her once battered body, she suspected her other injuries had fared similarly. "Hey, thanks! How did..." before she could continue, they were interrupted by a terrible scream rending the air.

Ranma looked to the front of the room to see that the man who had tried to escape was the source of the terrible sound. The man stood rigidly, staring into the now blazing red eyes of Judge Gabberslug. When the scream reached its peak the man withered away, leaving behind a desiccated husk. All was silent for a moment before the Judge let out a thunderous belch, his face showing great satisfaction, as though he had just eaten a delicious meal. Two black robed forms stepped forward and dragged the stiff, petrified body across the room. As they did so Gabberslug began to emit a deep, thumping sound, like an enormous diesel engine starting up, which echoed hollowly in the massive chamber. It took Ranma a moment to realize that the fiend was chuckling. When the pair found one of the few blank spots on the wall of the cavernous room they took the body and pushed it into the wall. It sunk in, falling within the white stone as though it was made of a thick tar, soon leaving nothing exposed save for the withered, terrified face of the prisoner. As Gabberslug's malicious laughter echoed around the room, Ranma realized that the thousands of grisly sculptures had not been carved into the walls. For a moment her vision tunneling inward, focusing only on the frozen faces leering at her, everything else slowly turning black. She could hear nothing but the raucous laughter of the fiend, and her rapid pulse pounding far too loudly in her own ears.

She was shaken from the moment by the woman that she had saved placing a soft hand on her arm. "Do not worry. Judge Gabberslug is not supposed to harm those who are brought to this court unless they seek to do him harm. He rarely kills those who he is supposed to judge. Factol Skall would be angry if he ate you." Her words were spoken quietly and with little emotion, and were frankly not terribly reassuring to Ranma.

"Don't worry," Sly Nye added. "I've never heard of ol' Gabberslug eating two people in a day. Well, hardly ever. Most likely he won't. Besides, I never lose a case."

Finally the Judge stopped laughing and gestured lazily at one of the black robed men. The man stepped forward, picked up a scroll, and said loudly, "Order in the court. Next petitioner before the Court of Woe, Saotome Ranma. Hearing the case, His Most Odious Gabberslug, Judge of the Court of Woe. Speaking for the Prosecution, Wrinkled Dannoch. Speaking for the Defense..."

Before he could continue Sly Nye stepped forward and said loudly, "Sly Nye, advocate for the Defense."

The old woman glared at Sly Nye, and he just grinned back cheekily. After a long moment she sighed and hung her head, while the Judge watched it all, a terrible grin splitting his corpulent face, his amusement evident. The man cleared his throat and continued, "Speaking for the Defense, Sly Nye. Court is now in session. Saotome Ranma, approach the bench and be Judged."

With a gulp Ranma walked forward, Sly Nye strutting confidently beside her to take his place before the Judge, smirking all the while at the old woman, who looked as though she had bitten into a lemon.

The woman started her case first, explaining in great detail everything that Ranma had done, and exactly which laws that she had violated. During her rare pauses Sly Nye would jump in with his own arguments. Unlike Dannoch, who recited her legal points in a dry, uninflected style, Nye was obviously very excited by the case. He strutted about like a proud rooster, flapping his arms around him, leaping up in his excitement, his high voice rising and falling with every point dramatically, no matter how mundane. Occasionally he would shout out strange words and bright flashes of light would come from the stones circling his head. During one of his key points fireworks exploded behind him, lighting up the room. Sometimes he would babble, his sentences completely out of order, or begin ranting and raving in strange tongues. During one particularly impassioned speech his stones transformed into strange, translucent imp like creatures which capered about the room, causing messes, annoying scribes, smudging the court paintings, and playing basketball with the head of one of the skeletons. It was a scene of complete chaos, but, no matter how bizarre Nye's actions and words, Dannoch didn't even bat an eye, simply picking up her side of the case during the pauses in Nye's speech, and the Judge nodded sagely, as though his antics were very wise points of law.

Finally, so confused she had almost forgotten to be frightened, Ranma jumped when the Judge spoke, his voice slow and deliberate, his red eyes locked hungrily on her form. "Enough. The defendant defiled a public fountain, it is true, with foul baatorian blood, requiring over a day for the Dabus to clean, and the services of several priests to decontaminate. However, no law makes it illegal to clean in a fountain, and the damage has already been reversed. Indeed, the outrage of the High Ups in the Lady's Ward was most amusing, for which I commend you. So, on the first charge, defiling a public fountain, I find the defendant... not guilty.

"For the second charge, resisting arrest, we have an equally complex issue. The taunting of the Harmonium member Wip Wildfang can easily be construed as resisting arrest. Indeed, such actions can undermine law and order in the entire city, and thus must be considered carefully. However, no actual damage was done, and upon being faced with further patrollers, the defendant surrendered and has done nothing to resist justice. Therefore, on the second and final charge, I find the defendant... not guilty."

Ranma sagged in relief, too rung out by everything that had happened that day to even be excited. "See, I told you," Sly Nye whispered. "I never lose a case!"

"Off the record, mortal, I commend you on the chaos you've already brought to this city. However, as I am bound to enforce its laws, I warn you, if you come before my court again I may not be able to show more leniency. Case Dismissed."

Ranma was quickly released from her manacles and led outside of the oppressive court room. When she reached the entrance she finally recovered enough to thank Sly Nye.

"All in a days work, my dear. All in a days work." With that and a wink the strangely dressed man walked away from the Court whistling cheerfully.

"See, I told you he'd get you off," Xaldra grinned.

"Xaldra!"

"What, surprised to see me?"

"Yeah. How'd you get here?"

"I was born not too far from here," she said frowning, looking off into the distance. "If it weren't for some good luck I'd still be here, trying to survive anyway I can." She shook herself, and grinned at Ranma again. "Come on, I promised we would go and see Iarmid if we gave 'em the laugh, and we did. Let's get out of here before some basher decides we look like some gulleys he can bob." With those confusing words she led the way down the street, moving swiftly and confidently in the fading light.

By the time they reached the edge of the hive and entered the Clerk's Ward it was fully dark, and Xaldra paused briefly to hire the services of a light boy. Light boys were enterprising youths who, at some point, got their hands on various objects, generally short shafts of wood, with light spells upon them. Each light boy had a different shade, theirs being a lime green color, and they did a brisk business providing light and guidance for travelers out after dark, which came early in Sigil.

"Always keep a peery eye on light boys," she whispered. "Some of them are little better than knights of the cross trade, but most are honest. Well, honest for the Cage. They say the light boys got started when a bunch of the canny little bashers broke into a wizard's tower, stole the lights he had made, then ran everywhere breaking the cities lights out, forcing berks to hire them. Ruddy clever little sods."

Despite the dim lighting, Ranma was very relieved to be away from the Hive. The air was much cleaner, the crowds much thinner, and the poverty far less crushing. In fact, everything seemed very neat, from the clean lines of the streets, to the sharp designs of the buildings, to the carefully placed cobblestones of the roads, everything in the Clerk's Ward screamed order.

After the long day Ranma was beginning to hit her limits as they passed into the opulent, if somewhat less organized, Guildhall Ward, when finally they reached their destination. Sitting in a square was a sprawling walled compound containing wide open dirt fields and several enormous swimming pools. At the far end of the compound was an impressive marble building, standing proudly against the more modest skyline. "That's the Great Gymnasium," Xaldra said as she paid the light boy several small copper coins. "Its the headquarters of the Cyphers. We're going to the Other Place."

As she said this she led Ranma towards a domed, white marble building across the street from the Gymnasium, which had obviously similar architecture. "The Other Place?"

"Yup. Iarmid, an aasimar, runs it. Its the best bath house and massage parlor in Sigil. Costs a pretty bit of jink, but well worth it. Nothing better to relax after the last few days."

Ranma had been encrusted with dried blood over her entire body for days, and so was very pleased at the thought of visiting a bathhouse, the thought of getting clean trumping even the hope of getting warm water. The inside of the building was a single large, circular room, with a four story high ceiling and a cool, gentle breeze, giving the place an open, airy feeling. At the center of the room was an enormous pool, and around it were an array of large round baths. Standing around them like an outer wheel of buildings encircling the baths were numerous small rooms, inside of which Ranma could see people and creatures of all descritpions getting massages and treatments of every imaginable type.

A tall man walked towards them across the floor with an eerie grace. He had long strawberry-blond hair dancing around his head in the gentle breeze, his handsome features placid. He was dressed in layers of gauzy cloth robes, the multiple pieces of material working together to form a complex pattern that resembled a cloudy sky. The man seemed almost to glow from within and he smiled reassuringly at them as he approached.

"My name is Iarmid, and this is my bathhouse. Its nice to see you again, Xaldra, and who is this that you've brought with you?"

"I'm Saotome Ranma." He looked down at his bloodstained body and scratched his head nervously. "Sorry 'bout this."

"Its an honor to meet you, Saotome Ranma. You look like you could make good use of our services."

"Yeah," Xaldra said. "He's as Clueless as they come, but he's a good sod, and I can tell once he gets lanned he'll be top-shelf. I'm even spottin' him the jink for the works."

"He?"

"I'm a guy," Ranma grumbled. "Its a curse. I'll turn back with hot water."

"Oh my. You must of really piked-off some fiend if they've done that to you. I would say it will take a very high up priest to cure that. But for now, you can rest. A bath, a massage, some pampering, and you'll feel like a new man."

Ranma was quickly led to a tiny curtained off dressing room, where she changed into a fluffy white robe. A woman with the lower body of a goat, a baurier, led her from there to one of the large baths. Unlike the earlier fountain, the pool Ranma had been led to had been blessed by priests, converting it into an enormous, cool pool of holy water. The hellish blood and other stains were swiftly scrubbed off using rough sponges and porous rocks, and once she was clean she put her robe back on and was led to another large bath.

"Well, Ranma, this I have to see," Xaldra said from where she leaned back comfortably under the water. Ranma blushed slightly, but shrugged it off and climbed in, transforming into his male form. "Not bad." Ranma sunk into the water, letting the heat disguise his blush.

Both of them were tired from their ordeals, and so they sat and rested in the hot water until the attendant returned and led them to chairs where they were giving a variety of strange treatments. Their nails were cleaned, hair washed, skin rubbed with lotions and odd plants, and generally pampered which made Ranma feel equal parts relaxed and uncomfortable, as he had never experienced such things in his life, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Only the presence of many others of various species and both genders undergoing similar treatments (modified as necessary for scales, claws, wings, or other abnormalities a patron might bring to the table) kept him from being embarrassed by the attention.

Finally Iarmid returned and led Ranma to a heated, padded massage table. "I like to give all first time customers my personal attention. I feel that it is important for ensuring repeat business. Soon you will feel much better." The massage was incredible, and before long Ranma felt himself relax completely under the masterful efforts of the aasimar masseuse. Ranma smiled as he drifted into a doze. He was clean, male, healed, getting the best massage of his life, and he had a real friend. Things were definitely looking up.

**Author's Notes**

Wow, long time no post. A bunch of things came up (I got very ill for a while, and while recovering I was foolish enough to try out the anime One Piece, and catching up on over 500 episodes took even longer, after which I was no longer in a Ranma mindset) and I never continued this. Most of this chapter was actually written immediately after the rest, but I got stalled, and well, many things happened. I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter – I think I'm missing some funny, but I was inspired to finish this chapter up and get it out there before my muse went away again, so here it is.

I was shocked at how many people seemed to like it, and I'll try to respond to a few specific comments now.

_Dumbledork: _Good point, and your not the last reviewer to call me out on that. I watched Ranma the anime around 2002ish, and read the manga in around 2003. I got into the Ranma fanfic scene starting in 2007, and started writing this 2009. That's a long time to let bad fanon habits creep in.

_Vixen2: _I am planning on going with Ranma learning to use Ki strikes in the D&D sense, which will let him harm monsters that require magical weapons to hurt.

_Vilkath: _I acknowledge that some of my knowledge of Ranma has rusted under the weight of fanfic I've read over the years. As for his intelligence, I didn't think I played Ranma as stupid in this. Heck, I had him flip through the journal of a wizard and figure out what was happening, which frankly shouldn't be very easy. As far as reacting instead of thinking... that pretty much describes the situation. I don't care who it is, if you find yourself suddenly dropped literally into Hell, your going to be overwhelmed and not able to think clearly. Give him time to get his bearings. Planescape is weird, but when he figures out the rules, he'll be able to win, just like he always does. As far as his weakness is concerned, if they were in a point based match Ranma completely beat his opponent. He beat him into the ground, and hit him almost at will, and was only hit once. But he literally was unable to inflict any harm, which made winning impossible. He'll get around that problem eventually.

_Hitokiri Onib, Paver83: _I don't feel that he's ever been trained at this point in the story to actively project Ki in his punches, which he needs to do to harm most fiends. I can see your argument, but I don't quite agree with it, though I certainly wouldn't object to someone who decided otherwise in their own story.

To everyone who said positive things, thank you. It really means a lot. And it makes me feel worse about waiting so long to finish this chapter. The quote at the top came form Uncaged: Faces of Sigil, as did a number of characters from this chapter. Xaldra Miloni is from the Great Modron March.


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